Why am I telling you this story? Well, Saturday morning, I woke up, Ryan made me home-made waffles from scratch for my birthday (they were so good, but I don't want them for a long time), and afterwards, I started having horrible stomach pains. My stomach felt like there were burning needles all over it. It was, shall we say, uncomfortable.
Ryan offered to take Noah to swim lessons for me, but I was like, no this is just indigestion, it will pass. I took some Mylanta and Noah and I left for swim lessons. We had been in the car for about 5 minutes, when the urge to vomit came over me. I pulled into a parking lot, jumped out of the van, and (instead of vomiting on the van) I vomited in front of the van. It was nasty. Noah started to cry. I got back into the van and told him that we wouldn't be going to swim lessons, that Mommy needed to go home. I drove home, breaking every speed limit on the way, got home, jumped out of the van, ran past Ryan telling him I threw up, that he needed to get Noah out of the van, and he could find me in the bathroom if he needed me. For the next 3 hours, I laid on the bed and crawled to and from the bathroom. It was magical.
Ryan and Noah played downstairs, and Chili laid next to me on the bed, letting me use him as something to pull or push up on if I was going to or coming from the bathroom. After the 3 hours passed, I felt better. I took a shower, and then basically was useless for the rest of the day. I was dizzy and weak.
My husband cleaned the house, grocery shopped, and proceeded to begin making dinners to freeze before the baby comes. Thanks Ryan, you're the best.