I also felt like I had to take a big, big poop. But I couldn't. (This is the part where I am glad that my dad reads this blog.) And as I would sit there on the toilet... waiting, waiting, my left leg would start to hurt along the outside of my thigh. And since I was just sitting on the toilet, pushing absolutely nothing out, I was certain that at any moment, I would probably push this baby and my entire set of intestines into the very empty toilet.
Drinking milk did help a little. But pacing around the entire house didn't help. Drinking more and more water didn't help. Laying flat on my back didn't help. Neither did laying on my left side. Nor my right side. I even tried laying on my stomach, as uncomfortable as that now is. And every time that I moved into a different position, the pain would intensify. I would hold my breath and try not to scream like I'm sure I would if someone really DID slice my belly open with a dull butter knife.
Last night, I was in the throw of this pain episode again, this was actually the third night that this had happened. I had called my doctor at the end of the day when the pain started, and the nurse on call just told me that if I was still doubled over in pain, to go into the E.R. And since Google also hadn't helped me diagnosis this mystery pain, I was getting frustrated. So, in bed and finally unable to endure this pain while NOT knowing what I was experiencing, I whispered to sleeping Scott that I was going to "quickly run" into the E.R. and have them take a look at what was happening, all while hiding the concern that lurked behind my eyes. As soon as he quickly sat upright in bed, making even ME dizzy, I told him that I would text him as soon as I knew what was causing this pain. But not to worry, I just want them to tell me what this all is. Is it severe constipation? Is my uterus okay? But since Scott needed to stay so Connor didn't have to wake up and go to the E.R., he reluctantly agreed to stay home. And after he went back to bed, I scooted off to the hospital in my immense troubling and stressful state.
Trying not to completely double over in pain and look like a dying E.R. patient, I quickly checked into the hospital. Then, in the triage room, they took my blood pressure and took down my symptoms, while telling me to calm down... my blood pressure is high. Um, okaaaay. I will try my best to relax so you can recheck my blood pressure. Just as soon as you take the knives that are on fire out of my stomach. Oh, and could you please stitch back up my colon. I think that it's going to fall out the next time I come within 5 feet of a toilet.
Once I was finally laying on the uncomfortable bed in one of the E.R. rooms, I was beginning to also have concern of catching pneumonia from the air conditioning blowing on my exposed skin under the thin hospital gown given by the "time-to-take-your-pants-off-because-you-will-have-an-impromptu-
pelvic-exam-soon-and-oh-and-keep-the-gown-open-in-the-back" nurse.
As I lay on the hard bed, the nurse then stuck me with a needle to get blood. For some reason, the slight pain of the needle prick got to me, and it added to the stress of the entire evening. Added to the E.R. experience that was starting to overwhelm me, and the fact that I needed Scott, but I didn't want to admit it... the stress hit me and quietly, one lonely single tear slid down my cheek. But my huge pride kept me absolutely silent. The nurse must have noticed the tear, and it was then that she asked me if there was anyone I should call. Her kindness and concern made me well up, and that's when all the rest of the tears that were in queue behind that first one said "Cowabunga! Let's go, Dudes!" and they all started sliding down my cheeks. But I managed a I'm-not-crazy smile and replied, "No, thank you. But thanks for asking."
I was finally glad when a girl came in with the small, ancient-looking doppler machine to listen for the baby's heartbeat. And although, my neck, back, arms, legs, abdomen, and face were tight from the stress, I managed to give the girl a smile. And even when she explained the typical statement that the hospital probably made her memorize, that don't be alarmed if we don't find the baby's heartbeat right away... or even at all... that this machine is old, blah, blah, blah... I just stared at her forehead and tried not to have a panic attack while she put the cold goop on my belly and slid the machine's wand over my belly.
I held my breath, I held all of the muscles still in my entire body, as we listened to the scratchy tones of the fetal monitor as it moved over my stomach. She started on my left side and moved to my right, and all we could pick up were the beats of my own heart. But then! finally, we heard it. Faint as it was, the baby's rapid heartbeat was there. 156 beats per minute... finally found on this piece-of-crap-old-machine that was probably used on Ghandi when he was a tiny fetus.
And then, I felt my entire body relax, starting with my shoulders. Then, my neck. Then, my arms and legs. It was then that I realized that I had been so worried about something being wrong with the baby due to all the stomach issues. And so when she checked my blood pressure again, the nurse complimented me that it was finally lower... Kind of like the time I had just studied all night and aced the school math final. Thanks, Nurse, I tried my best.
After they put a bag of fluids in my body through the tiny hole they made in my arm, and then rechecked my blood pressure to make sure that it was even lower, they finally released me. They told me that it was not chronic constipation, that I wouldn't die from the gas exploding my colon. The baby is fine and will not hitch-hike out of my womb because of this awful pain. That... get this, the UTERUS CRAMPS will go away or not be as strong after awhile.
That is it? I was just feeling uterus cramps? Are you sure, Doctor-with-all-the-letters-behind-your-name? But the pain was really intense. I was doubled over. I've felt the cramps before, and yes, they are bad, but never THIS bad. Are you really certain? And yes, she replied that she is. If I was dying from something wrong in my colon, the pain would be centralized in one area, not sensitive all over the places that my uterus is growing. Your uterus just needs to grow, and in a short period of time. Which is something I already knew. Google told me that.
So, what can I do for the pain, Doctor? She said Tylenol. Um, why wasn't I already taking that, the reader may ask? Because I LOVE to go to the E.R. That's why.
When did I become such a hypochondriac? After relaxing a little, I confessed to the nurse that I would NEVER have gone to the E.R. for stomach pains in my previous life. I explained to her that I am NOT a hypochondriac... I promise. I have only been to the E.R. a few times for myself and that was because my mom made me when I was little and I was filling a pool up with my own blood after hitting my chin on the side of the pool... another time when I was older (and smarter) and I sliced a piece of my hand off trying to cut a couple of hydrangea flowers with a dull kitchen knife... and oh, that one time I broke my ACL while skiing. The other 87 times that I cut myself, or I sprained something, I would just slap a band aid on it, or walk it off. No need to go to the E.R., that's where people go that have missing limbs or have garage tools sticking out of their skulls.
The nurse replied, "Believe me, when I tell you this: The constant worry has only begun for you. It will never stop, not even when your tiny baby has grown and has moved out of the house."
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