Here I was, all ready to blog about exciting things like yoga, annoying bus drivers who don't lower the access ramps and obsessively tidying up my house when I was sidelined by an ever so lovely bout of viral gastroenteritis. I won't go in to the nasty details, but I was violently ill every 15 minutes or so for about five hours so we decided to go to the hospital.
Hubby dropped me at the emergency room door while he parked the car and I stumbled in to triage helped by a man who was already sitting there waiting (thank you, kind stranger). It took about ten minutes to go through to the bed because they had to make up a private room (OK so it was actually an isolation room, but hey, I'll say it was private and fancy) - they'd already assumed I had the dreaded gastro that, as is always the way, "was going around at the moment".
I was immediately hooked up to IV fluids and given anti-nausea drugs. I wanted to kiss the nurse who gave them to me, partly because they worked and partly because she went and double checked the doctor had prescribed something safe for lactating mothers - she would have run away screaming had I tried.
Tricky had so far stayed in the nurses area with Hubby (much to the delight of the nurses and my doctor who would tell me how much he was smiling every time they came in to check my vitals) because it was decided that he should, until they were sure what was wrong, keep well clear of me. So rather than stay around being bored and unable to do anything, my boys went home. With the drugs starting to ease my poor tum, I fell asleep. Who would have thought that a trip to the hospital was the only way for a new mum to get uninterrupted sleep!?
A few hours later I was still feeling like death but now had the added bonus of massive, sore boobs that hadn't been 'milked' in six hours - now normally six hours is nothing, but in the past week Tricky has had a blocked nose which means he's been feeding every two hours (hold your nose and drink through a straw and see how long you last before you get tired). A breast pump was delivered but, not being something used very often in emergency, the nurses couldn't figure out how to use it! After two hours of different people trying to work it I called my Mum, who then came up to the hospital with my own pump. Just as I started the lactation consultant came down from the maternity ward (suited up in protective gear to protect the rest of the babies she would see that day from my icky germs), moved one tube to a different slot, and hey presto, we have milk. Oh the relief!
I ended up staying for 12 hours and having four litres of fluids. Even though that's not very long it felt like years since I'd seen my Tricky so I was so glad to go home where I found him asleep in my Dad's arms (yep, my Mum and my Dad took turns while Hubby had a well deserved sleep). He'd had a long day of 'talking' and smiling so was completely exhausted. I wanted to pick him up and never let him go... but I didn't want to wake the poor fella.
So will he catch it off me? The answer is, unfortunately, that no one knows. However the doctor and lactation consultant both encouraged me to keep breastfeeding him for the antibody protection, saying that sometimes a whole family will get sick except for the infant on the boobie juice. Plus being so sick and lacking in fluid there was a chance my supply could drop, so best to get him back on (or pumping religiously) straight away. In the days since it all happened I've been taking it easy and am starting to feel so much better - and so far neither Hubby nor Tricky show any signs of being sick. Phew!
I may have been sick but the competition for next month is still going ahead! You have to be a follower to enter so click on follow now!