When Gallstones Attack (And Other Terrifying Things)
I thought, two weeks ago, that potentially I was actually already having the baby. While Mark was in New Orleans – how handy. I woke up at 4am in terrible pain. I called in sick to work, and felt more and more ill. I had a nap, and it went away. Well, how odd. Must have been a stomach bug, I thought to myself. Thankfully, if it had been anything more, I had some lovely friends checking up on me, and even Rebecca turning up with her own newborn to make sure I was alive.
The following Sunday, with Mark back on home soil, the pain and symptoms returned. With a vengeance. I ended up at the hospital, being monitored for labour, but knowing it had to be something else. I also ended up on morphine for the first time, which was actually sort of fun. The short crazy dreams were at least entertaining for the afternoon. They let me go home a few hours later when the pain disappeared again. An ultrasound early the next morning confirmed what the doctor suspected – I have gallstones that have likely been exacerbated by pregnancy. And it’s extremely common for pregnancy to mess with your gallbladder functions.
Thankfully, they haven’t been an issue again since then. I’m not entirely sure what caused those two acute attacks, although having a slightly decadent Thanksgiving dinner the night before Sunday’s episode is suspect. I was on tenterhooks for a while, just waiting for the next round of agony, but I’ve managed to relax now. The hospital mentioned having to have my gallbladder out at some later date, but I guess I’ll just see how it goes following the birth. I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea of surgery (because I am a total wimp) but if I have to do it, this too shall pass. Too bad gallstones don’t pass like kidney stones. Or is that a good thing…
I’ve been so lucky with this pregnancy. I had thought up to this point that my only adverse side effect was overly swollen feet that will only fit into Birkenstocks, and a slow waddle. After two pregnancies with killer morning sickness, I was feeling very thankful. This little bonus just managed to sneak in at the end. *shakes fist*
So I’ve relaxed about the gallstones. Probably because I’m spending all my anxiety dollars wondering what the hell I was thinking last year – having a third kid is completely, utterly insane. I know I’ve been worried all along but it’s really, really hitting me now. What are we doing? Why are we doing this? Why aren’t I at work? How the hell do I take care of a newborn? These diapers and clothes are tiny, OMG. It’s been four years and I really can’t remember anything. Why am I rewinding the clock when the kids have already grown up so much? Well, sort of. I’ve completely lost control of the 4 year old and the 6 year old, with a suggestion at bedtime last night after 40 minutes of hijinks that I am going to have to send them to live somewhere else as I clearly suck at parenting – where’s the room for a completely dependent brand new life form in this equation?
I’m really hoping that I can manage to write a post in a few weeks that says <insert yet-to-be-determined-baby-name here, because, yes, we still don’t have a name*> is here and he’s amazing and I can’t imagine our family without him. Because otherwise I just set myself up for a very expensive child therapy bill. But holy crow, I am not foreseeing domestic bliss for the next year. Or three. I see major chaos ahead. And tears. Mostly mine. Shit. Tell me it’s going to be okay. Okay?
*I provided Mark with a list of all the baby names you suggested on my post, and all were ixnayed. Good grief. Another reason not to have a third kid. There’s no names left to agree on. What will we do? Well, Mark’s apparently going to Ottawa for work on Monday so if the baby comes while he’s out of town, the name decision is MINE ALL MINE. And then I will kick his ass for being out of town. But I will have naming victory.