Well, I thought when I blogged last week, that I was coming back from the dead- but it was a total fake out. On Wednesday night, Max and I were awake all night-- until 6:44am to be exact. I'm not sure if it was just the sickness or his drugs too, but the baby just cried all night. Considering that I, too, was sick, I just didn't have the energy for a marathon night like that. But Chad was out of town, so I had no options. I'd get him to sleep and it would last for 5-7 minutes, before he would wake back up screaming. I tried to be patient-- but before long, I got to the end of me and just started crying right along with him. At about 3am, I called Chad sobbing so hard, that I'm pretty sure he couldn't understand a word I said for at least the first 5 minutes. He offered to come home, but being that he was several hours away, that just didn't make sense, so I had to just keep on keeping on. I thought about putting Max in the car and driving- but I was so tired and spent that I decided we would probably end up in a ditch and that would be horrible.
So he fell asleep at 6:44am and I followed after him, give or take 30 seconds. And by 9:30, he was up again. Horaah. So I held Max as he cried all day, attempted to work, and also lysoled and cloroxed everything in our house. I washed every blanket, every towel, all the sheets and sprayed the couch and pillows. I wanted these germs out of my house.
By Thursday night, I was anxious for Chad to get home and the best news of all was that my mom was flying into town. The following day was baby day, finding out if we had a little man or a little princess. My mom was coming for the appointment and then we had plans to do baby things and nursery things, depending on the results. Unfortunately, by the time she landed, I was dying all over again. I was not healed, I was definitely still sick.
Thursday night, no sleep-- but this can't be blamed on Max-- oh no, I just stayed awake ALL night coughing. And seeing that I'm pregnant, I can take NOTHING-- all I could do was suffer. I repeated this same fun on Friday, although Chad was back home, so I stayed awake all night on the couch this time. By Saturday and Sunday nights, I was back in my bed, Chad was kicked out to another room, though. I'd just doze off, then go into a raging coughing fit that included a hot flash and a trip to the bathroom. Then I'd have to blow my nose, apply lotion on the poor thing (by this point, I was on my 5th box of tissues) and once again, build my pillow castle that would properly elevate me for sleeping, despite the congestion and cough. Again, I'd just start to doze off, and I'd circle back through the fun- over and over and over. I watched each hour on the clock tick by for 5 nights in a row. FIVE. And then I began to lose my mind. I found myself dreading the sun setting, taking that long walk to my room and praying praying praying that God would show me a way to sleep-- but instead I wrestled and coughed and went mad!
Instead of a fun weekend with my mom, she had to take care of me and watch me sulk on the couch and try to shield herself from my germs. She cooked us food- lots and lots of food- which was a good thing considering how many days it had been since I'd gone to the grocery store-- or even eaten for that matter. And seeing that Max was sick too, he was SUPER high maintenance and needy, so Granny Annie to the rescue! She held him, coddled him, changed him, rocked him, and fed him. And I sat.
Then yesterday, after we dropped Annie at the airport, I attempted to take Max by the office for one little thing the required the copy machine and could not be done at home. But he was not done being sick. Oh no! He cried and acted a fool and caused a ruckus until I was so embarrassed that I wasn't sure how I could get my keys out of my office and get him to the car fast enough. Early evening, I had a horrendous fight with my husband and ended the night with a trip to Wal-mart at midnight, as I finally decided that drugs would be better for the baby then a mom that went crazy. Despite the doctor's orders and google, I went and stood in front of the cold and flu medicine aisle and just prayed that God would give me wisdom about what to purchase-- I picked a cough syrup that didn't have alcohol in it and just prayed for peace of mind. I'm not a medicine taker anyway, even when I'm not pregnant, but enough was enough. I needed sleep, I needed relieve, and I needed rest.
The medicine worked- I slept for about 6 hours before waking up to puke my guts out-- I think my body didn't like the meds after all- but they did allow me to sleep before rejecting it, so I think it was worth it-- throwing up and all.
If you're wondering what this long rant is all about- it's really not just to complain. And obviously, I don't need to document the horrible flu as I don't ever want to remember that this happened- but I think there's something to be said about reaching the end of yourself- about looking in a mirror and seeing a hollow shell of a person- about realizing that there is absolutely nothing left. I think it points to my depravity. It reminds me that life is fleeting. It reminds me that I'm not made for this world or the germs in it. It reminds me that all I need it God.