I'm A Mess

We had a bad scare a few weeks ago. I had initially started to write a huge, detailed post about it, but about halfway through, I was like, "Crap, I don't even want to think about this hard enough to write about it." I'll give you a synopsis now, though.

Three Sundays ago I was canning jalapenos from our garden and I decided to take a break and put my feet up for a few minutes while the jars where processing. I hadn't been sitting more than a minute when suddenly--and I mean out of nowhere--I felt horrible. I had terrible pressure in my belly and I was sweaty and nauseous. Every second it got worse, so Tom took me to L & D. It was a terrifying ride there--not just because we where panicking and running red lights in mid-day traffic--but because we were automatically taken back to the night Nate was born. I was in so much pain, but the worst part was just the horrible, blinding fear. The pressure and the nausea... it was like I was abrupting again. Why didn't I have tests done? Why did I just trust my doctor? I had just finished his quilt that morning and I was so proud of it. I laid it out so that I could look at it every time I walked by. What was wrong with me? Why does my body do this to my babies?! The only thing that was different about this time was that I wasn't bleeding.

The nurses at L & D hooked me up to the monitor and found his heartbeat right away. I just knew that it would be in the 40's, like Nate's, but it was good and strong in the 150's. Okay, he was fine, but I was getting worse and worse--sweaty and writhing around--the nurses didn't really know what to do with me. And then I threw up. Magically, all the pain and pressure had vanished. I felt great. I was ready to go home. But we had a day of tests and ultrasounds ahead of us.

And do you know what? I have gallstones. Tons of them. They're going to try to wait to take my gall bladder out until the boy is born, unless things are just too bad to tolerate. I didn't have another attack until two weeks after the first awful one, but this time I had three in two days. And one of them was even worse than the very first one. Now that we knew what was going on, we weren't nearly as terrified. You know, they tell you all about constipation when you're pregnant, but I had never heard that pregnancy causes your bile to turn to sludge and fills you with stones. Great. I thought old people got gallstones. Now that it's happened, hardly anyone I've talked to even has their gall bladder anymore. And they're around my age. What a crappy, useless organ. I've already had my tonsils out--I'll just get rid of all my useless organs.

I DO NOT want surgery when I'm pregnant. Laproscopy or otherwise. That scares the shit out of me. The only surgery I want is the one where they are actually going in to get him. So in the meantime, what do I do? I'm afraid to eat. I've cut out all dairy now, because I wonder if that's what set off the three attacks last weekend. They told me not to eat fatty and spicy. So, what? No KFC? I'm afraid to eat anything with any fat in it. I'm hungry. We're hungry! I am eating, though, don't worry. Just lots of fruit and veggies and plain pasta. No red meat, only baked chicken and turkey breasts. Boca burgers. Cereal with soy milk. I guess what I'm wondering is-- has anyone had their gallbladder out during pregnancy? I know that it is a very common surgery during pregnancy, but I don't know anyone whose had it done. I would totally put up with the pain of the attacks if I knew for sure and for certain that it was just me it was effecting. I worry about the stress and pain of it to cause premature labor, I'm worried about my gallbladder rupturing, I worry about pancreatitis. I've only got 10 weeks left! I want to stick it out so badly, but I'm just so terrified that he's going to get hurt.

Next week is my glucose tolerance test. Wouldn't that just be a kick in the ass if I ended up with GD, too? Hilarious. This pregnancy was scary enough in the first place. I shouldn't have to deal with bullshit of any kind this time around. But I have to keep reminding myself--when we left L & D that day, I did not expect to be leaving with my baby. But I did. He's just fine.