Doctor says I SHOULD

have painkillers, relaxants

even some steroids

But I am pregnant

so I get some Tylenol

and a heating pad

I shouldn’t complain, because it all could have been so much worse. Part of me appreciated the doctor’s sympathy (and his support that I must have been hit a second time - which the cop left out of the police report - while twisting back to check on the kids) to explain my right side pain), but I also wish I didn’t know that I could be on lovely prescription painkillers right now. It’s not SO bad, but typing and bending my head to look at the computer screen are painful and I’m in blog withdrawal. Thank you all so much for your good thoughts and patience.

]]> http://jerseygirl89.wordpress.com/2008/05/09/haiku-friday-post-crash-edition/feed/ jerseygirl89 http://jerseygirl89.wordpress.com/2008/05/06/bam/ http://jerseygirl89.wordpress.com/2008/05/06/bam/#comments Tue, 06 May 2008 13:07:03 +0000 jerseygirl89 http://jerseygirl89.wordpress.com/?p=424

I swear to God this blog is going to get more cheerful soon.

But probably not today.

Yesterday, I was driving Ironflower and Lovebug to my parents’ house to spend the night so that I could go see Hot Guy in a play reading. I was all set to drop them off and then drive to the train station so I could go into the city - where I haven’t been for ages - when BAM.

And then there was another BAM.

I was rear-ended. It felt like she had her foot on the gas pedal, she hit us so hard. Twice. (though she claims her brakes went out).

Anyway, the kids began crying. I began hyperventilating while telling them that everything was okay. My head hurt. The kids said their heads hurt. I called my mom to meet us while the other driver called the police (at my insistence).

The cop called the ambulance.

By the time the EMTs were checking the kids out, they were fine. Enjoying the attention, even. I was a wreck.

My mom took the kids with her and I went to the ER to have the baby checked out. I called Hubby from the ambulance and convinced him that he couldn’t leave the play (which has no understudies) when everything was probably fine.

I was in the hallway of the ER for three and a half hours. Meanwhile my neck began to hurt. A lot. I was also shaking. A nice woman - wife and of the guy parked behind me in the hallway - got me a blanket and talked me through my first crying spell. Her name was Sylvia. i wish I could send her flowers.

Finally they put me in a “minor treatment” room. They sent me to the ultrasound suite eventually. The tech - who had been called in - was SO nice. Baby was fine. But she seemed worried about me and got me some juice and warm blankets. I guess not eating or drinking for ten hours had gotten to me.

Hubby came soon after I got back to “my” room. That’s when I really cried.

My neck was x-rayed, but apparently it’s just a strain. Which hurts. We left the hospital around 11:30pm, with instructions that I am on bedrest until I see my OB.

See you all in a few days.

I know that my children don’t have the healthiest diets. Unless a vegetable is so finely chopped that it (and its nutritional value) disappears into the sauce, my children won’t eat it. And while they do eat fruit everyday, Ironflower only deems one fruit acceptable.

But still, I didn’t think we were doing that badly. We don’t have any trans fats and most of their snack crackers don’t have high fructose corn syrup, at least. But then we had this conversation:

Ironflower: Mommy, I put peanut butter on whatever doesn’t get syrup, right?

Me: As far as breakfast goes, I guess.

Ironflower: And lunch.

Me: And lunch.

Ironflower: But Lovebug likes ketchup, even on breakfast food.

Me: Lovebug loves ketchup, but remember we weren’t going to talk about ketchup at breakfast anymore? Because mommy wants Lovebug to skip the ketchup at one meal?

Lovebug: Ketup! Ketup! Me! Ketup!

Me (muttering): I am such an idiot.

If it wasn’t for peanut butter and ketchup, I’m pretty sure my kids wouldn’t eat anything. We go through a big jar of peanut butter and a HUGE thing of ketchup every two weeks. If the kids were larger I’d be okay with that, but they are only two and three and neither one of them weighs over 30 pounds. And Hubby and I rarely touch the ketchup and never touch the peanut butter.

Is our family weird? Or do all small children have these strange condiment obsessions? And when will they grow out of them?

I like to think of myself as strong. As someone who doesn’t take any crap (at least, not since I left my first husband). I like to think of myself as the kind of person who HANDLES things.

But as I’ve read over your comments on my last few posts, I realize that that woman seems to have left the building. Why am I taking all this crap and letting these people scare me? I’m THIRTEEN WEEKS today. This is when the FUN part starts. I should be happy. Soon nausea and exhaustion will be a faint memory, my maternity pants will stay up and the threat of miscarriage is now tiny. When I got to do this date with Ironflower, I was filled with joy.

Now it seems every week there’s been a new fear, a new stress. And I resent that. This is my last pregnancy. I should be happy, not shaking because the doctors are convinced that my old age (not one of them has mentioned my being overweight already, which you’d think would make a bigger difference) is turning this pregnancy into a melodrama.

Thank you guys for being so supportive and kind about the fact that my backbone went on vacation. It’s back now (no pun intended). So I checked out midwife options, but unfortunately I don’t really have any. All the (few) midwives around here seem to be about home births, which is not an option for a c-section veteran like myself (I know some people have VBACs, but I’m not going to be one of them, trust me). So I’m going to see a new doctor in my practice next week - one that the women in my playgroup say they like. If I don’t like her, I’m going to look for a new practice. I’m also going to ask her to explain in detail why they think I need all these tests and make the decision for my ownself. (Although the idea of finding out NewBaby’s gender in just three weeks makes a compelling argument for the early anatomy scan)

I promise I’m going to try to catch up on all of your blogs this weekend. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bad bloggy friend. Oh, I’m also going to try to catch up on emails, for those of you who’ve emailed me in the past month. I promise.

So this morning my regular OB’s office calls me (the whole nuchal translucency thing was done by the high-risk pregnancy office) and asks me if I’ve scheduled my early anatomy scan with the high risk people yet.

HUH?

The office girl (you don’t think it was a nurse or a doctor who called me, do you?) says that because of the high measurement, I need to have the twenty week ultrasound done at 16 weeks, and it should be done by the specialists. I mention my normal blood tests and the fact that the genetic counselor didn’t mention this.

Office girl doesn’t have my blood tests, but she says that the OB I saw last month (whom I disliked) says I need it. Because of the nuchal measurement.

Now then, part of me says - hey, it’s another ultrasound! If NewBaby is cooperative, I could find out the sex early. But the other part of me says, if this is necessary, why didn’t the genetic counselor mention it when she mentioned the blood test I need at 16 weeks and the fetal echocardiagram I need at 20? (BTW, I am using the term “need” loosely)

I cannot express how deeply I want to go back to my doctor in Kansas City, who had a sense of humor and never freaked out. Or possibly I should try to find a mid-wife, thanks to comments on my previous post.

Any thoughts? Suggestions? Ways to soothe my nerves that don’t involve beer or Brie?