Crazy

Having gastro is not fun.

Having gastro when pregnant is less fun.

Having gastro when heavily pregnant with number two after the loss of your first born is just the fucking pits.

This has not been a fun week. Monday and Tuesday were busy with hospital appointments, monitoring and visiting friends. I decided after all that activity, I would put myself in to lock down mode with little to no contact with the rest of the outside world. I decided I just wanted to cocoon for a while, and after those two busy days, that seemed like a good time to start. What's more, I really can't drive anymore. I recently bought myself a few extra inches behind the steering wheel by moving it up a notch, but now it is really beyond a joke. I wont be going much further past my letterbox (and the hospital) now until this baby is born. I wish I had a more comfortable couch.

Wednesday this week is where things went pear-shaped. I woke up feeling really off and needed to be within one metre of the toilet at all times - sorry for the gruesome details. Wednesday afternoon saw us both in a bit of a panic, deciding it was probably best to go to hospital to be checked out, worrying that all this toilet-activity of mine could be somehow harming the baby, if it hadn't killed him already (ahh, that's confidence for you). I also had in the back of my mind that it could actually be labour, but as it turns out I could never be that lucky. Wednesday evening saw me in the emergency department for three hours having the baby monitored and me being hooked up to an IV for a bag of fluids due to the dehydration I had suffered because I couldn't keep anything in. It was not overly fun. Especially when the nurse missed my vein on the back of my left hand. Then learning first-hand if mummy's heart is racing, baby's will be, too. Thankfully when I managed to calm myself down, he did as well. The only thing that kept me sane at that point was that his heart actually WAS beating.

Thursday saw me feeling tired, weak and much better from the gastro, but totally shaken up by the whole ordeal. We both felt like we'd seen a ghost. Or been hit by a truck. Or both. I really didn't need this and especially not right now. I've had two completely healthy pregnancies from start to finish, then all of a sudden as a find myself at the finish line of number two, I get sick. Not sure if it was just a bug I picked up or something dodgy I ate, but it wasn't pretty. And it just left me with a whole new bunch of fears and anxieties when I already thought I had enough.

Now it is Friday and I am feeling back to normal again, at least on the stomach bug front. But I just feel sick with the worry. Hello again fear, nice to see you. Not that you ever really left. And here I go again, sounding like a very boring broken record.

I'm so close now. Stupidly close. I feel I have nothing new or worthy to say. Its all just blah blah blah blah blah: I'm scared. I'm paralysed with a fear that only those who have lived through this nightmarish-hell could ever understand.

I'm going crazy. Not a minute goes by where I don't think about just fronting up to the hospital and asking for a c-section RIGHT NOW. I want him out, RIGHT NOW. I'm tormented and traumatised by all my choices and all the decisions that have to be made in the coming days.

Trips to the hospital which are supposed to allay my fears don't always end up doing that. Really, I don't want to have to go there again like I did on Wednesday and return home without my baby (unless it is just for a routine check up, and hopefully I've only got one or two of those left).

I just want this over. I have nothing left to say. I'm out of my mind. I'm going crazy.