Everyone told me that sending Arthur to daycare would mean a string of illnesses. They told me, but I didn’t quite internalize it.
On day three of “school” he developed a serious, heartbreaking fever. Since then, we have all suffered from an array of infections and viruses. He’s had a runny nose since November. Thank the cherubs for grandmas!
Add pregnancy to this cocktail and you get a potent recipe for misery. With so much help from JF, I (mostly) managed to keep functioning through baby building, full-time work, raising a toddler, caring for Odie, and the barrage of colds. All of my relationships have suffered – I’m sorry!
Three weeks ago, my body just decided to stop fighting. A day after Arthur vomited all over his bed, JF and I both felt strangely dizzy and nauseous. By 4 p.m. I couldn’t hold down food or liquid. By 2 a.m. my body had been rejecting water for about 10 hours. I was severely dehydrated and went to the hospital where I was put on an IV and strapped to baby heart monitor.
The following days were a haze of vomit, Pedialyte, intermittent work hours, and trying to keep my family alive. Then (just as I was beginning to hold down non-bread substances), it was mucus city. I had a nasty virus that lasted about seven days. Earlier this week I thought I was recovered. Nope! I have a sinus infection. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire, I have no taste buds, and I’m running out of Kleenex.
Today, I finally stopped being an idiot and went to see my doctor. I’m on the road to regaining what little stamina one has during the third trimester of pregnancy… I hope. Having survived this assault on my immune system (flipping and kicking enthusiastically), this baby is going to be the toughest little cookie on the block.
Why am I sharing this tale? This post is a PSA. If you’re thinking of simultaneously launching into pregnancy and daycare adventures, just don’t. Unless you have the disease-fighting abilities of Khan, it’s not worth it!