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End of my rope

October 20, 2011

I made some conscious decisions to go easier on myself with this pregnancy.  I took the elevator.  I stopped going to the gym during my last trimester.  I ate lots of fried dough (did you know Shipley’s now serves made-to-order beignets?!  So glad I didn’t discover this until my last trimester…or the last ten years of my life).   I welcomed help.  I waddled proudly.  I didn’t pick things off the floor when I dropped them.  And, I decided to designate a “last day of work.”  With the first pregnancy, I worked all the way up until delivery day.  Last Friday was my last day of work and I thought it would be a bit hectic wrapping everything up and then I would enjoy a few days of rest before my due date, October 19th.  Sweet baby Jesus, was I wrong.

Two weekends ago, Kien showed signs of illness.  The illness brought 102+ fever on Saturday night, 103.8 fever on Sunday night, and high fever all the way through Wednesday.  I was commuting back and forth between work, my parents’ house, and the doctor’s office, trying to juggle appointments, meetings, and tasks.  On Tuesday, I sat in my office and just started laughing hysterically.  That morning, Kien’s fever was still high, the doctor was concerned about his breathing, and he hadn’t eaten anything (or kept anything down) since Saturday.  I was already late for an important 10 o’clock meeting at work and in my rush, I ran. into. my. boss’s. car.  I put a good four inch scratch on her minivan.  Of al the cars I could have scratched up in the garage….Anyway, I rushed through the meeting, rushed back to my office.  Rushed to catch my boss to let her know (and couldn’t help laughing through the entire conversation because it was better than crying.  Lucky for me, she didn’t seem to mind.  Perhaps because it’s a minivan and that’s what minivans do?).  Settled in to work.  Parents called to say Genghis’ fever has spiked above 103 again.  Made an appointment with the doctor.  Rushed back to my parents’ house.  Rushed to the doctor.  Diagnosis:  pneumonia.  Well damn.  This kid is milking every bit of attention we can give him as an only child before his sibling arrives.  Pneumonia is genius.  He could not have played it better.  I mean, your typical daycare virus is kids’ play.  A little motrin, a little TLC and you’re all set.  But pneumonia.  The world stops when your kid is ill with something that starts with two consonants that shouldn’t go together.  Attention jackpot.

I barely limped through the end of the week, working after hours to get all my frayed ends tied up before leaving work for three months.   And of course, I catch a cold over the weekend and show no signs of squirting out Hoo Two.  The good news:  I wasn’t working so I could get some rest.  The bad news:  It is incredibly miserable to have ALL YOUR ORIFICES CLOGGED AT THE SAME TIME.  All of them.  And all I wanted, even more than that Shipley’s beinget, was at least two orifices unclogged.  Any two.

So here we are, at 40 and two-sevenths weeks pregnant and I’m happy to say that I’m starting to get unclogged.  In fact, the doctor told me today that I’m ripe and should go into labor tomorrow.  Oh yea.  Guess what tomorrow is?  THE END OF THE WORLD!

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2 Comments
  1. Felicia permalink

    I hope the ‘end of the world’ actually translates to the beginning of a new world for Hoo Two – good luck lovely!

  2. Jenna permalink

    OMG, laughing, crying, feeling for you. I think you are like the only person in the world that could be that funny with that much going on. Sayin’ a little prayer for you-screw everyone else-they’ll be just fine.

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