Being Grateful for Dan

Well, I almost died.

Or at least I thought I was going to, or worse, hurt the baby inside of me. I was stupid and it was stupid and that was one freakishly scary night.

As it turns out all those rules about what you are and aren't supposed to do while pregnant are for a good reason. But in my mind what does it mean when the doctor tells you to "not lift heavy objects" because my kids need lifting and some consider that heavy, but I don't. Thinking back though, probably moving the 10 year old TV upstairs by myself is considered heavy by everyone. Also moving the sofas and flipping one on top of the other go under the too heavy for the pregnant lady list. At the time though it didn't seem like too much.

Also, using my neighbor's Bissell to clean the carpets in the entire downstairs didn't seem like too much either. Obviously though it was. My body was screaming at just about every move I made by dinner time. Between dinner and the kids' bedtime all I did was lay on Charlotte's bed while they played around me. I was exhausted.

It was after bedtime though that I really thought I'd done permanent damage. You see, evidence that I had caught some sort of stomach virus started to appear around 7 PM and I spent the rest of the night sitting on the toilet, holding a bowl to puke in. My body didn't want me to move and also wanted every bit of whatever toxin was in there out. My body was in agony and there was literally no way to alleviate it. Add to it all the worry that this much dehydration was going to severely hurt my baby and you have one torturous night.

And here's where Dan steps in. I told him to go to bed since there was absolutely nothing he could do for me. Then I would sporadically wake him up just for reassurance that everything was going to be OK. He patiently woke up and told me that no, we still don't need to go to the ER, you are doing fine. This will pass.

Then when he woke up for the day I begged and pleaded with him to please not go into work. I couldn't see facing that day feeling as bad as I did without him. Well, he couldn't just not show up. So he went in, but not until after telling me to let things go with the kids that day. Let them watch TV (which he never says) and just relax. He left and then I cried. And then I cried because crying hurt.

In my haze I got out two bowls of honey KIX turned on the TV and crawled back into bed. I woke up again sometime around 10 and felt better (or so I thought) so I tried to text him that he could in fact stay at work. He decided to come home anyway.

And gave me the best gift of my life.

I had my first sick day in four years. I was, in fact, not all better yet. I still needed much in the way of hydration and rest. All of which he gave me. I let my body tell me when I needed to sleep and try to eat and followed his orders when it came to taking Tylenol and I managed to make it through the day. He brought home a variety of powerades along with a winter cactus because he loves me. He did Charlotte's hair and took her to preschool and played with Greg and did everything so I didn't need to worry about anything.

Did I mention he was supposed to start helping out with a new doctor's service yesterday? I have no idea what he told them to come home, but I'm sure it cost him at least a little just to leave like that. Hopefully he can make it up to them in the coming six weeks because he is my hero.