relief.

For the past hour and a half, I literally thought I might give birth to a baby calf. Or something of that size. To put your mind at ease right now, I am doing much better. I am actually sitting up. Not curled over. Not moaning. Not massaging my stomach. I am sitting here...writing about it on my blog. In some ways, I feel a little lame that this is the first thing I am choosing to do now that the pain has subsided. But lame or not, I feel I should document the past hour and half.

I don't know what cause the cramping or Braxton Hicks or whatever any medical professional would choose to call what I just experienced. I came home from work. We ate dinner. I washed and rinsed the dishes. And when I was drying them off and about to put them away, I felt my insides crash into each other. A feeling that unless directly experienced, I am not sure how to explain it. I crumpled over. Put the dish in my hand on the counter as I leaned toward the floor trying to grab my stomach and massage the pain away. Normally this works. This time...it didn't. Being as stubborn as I am, I would normally just stand back up and continue with my chores because pain always passes, but I just couldn't stand up straight. I tiptoed to the couch. Tim helped me lie down, but I couldn't get comfortable. He helped me back up and up the stairs to our bed to rest on the heating pack. 20 minutes of heat did not help me a bit. I made Tim go to the gym because Mya was going stir crazy in the house, and quite frankly, I needed a few minutes alone without a child wanting to climb on top of me. I tried to play solitaire on my side. Not comfortable. I switched sides. Didn't help. I called my best friend just to hear her voice. I thought it would distract me. Finally she said, "I am going to call someone if you don't stop moaning like that." We talked about options and decided a shower was the best, cheapest option. So I said goodbye and slowly made my way to the shower. I took the hottest 30 minute shower I think I have ever taken. I came out like a vine ripe tomato. Not a semi-ripe Roma, but the really red kind. But it seemed to be the answer to my silent prayers tonight. The pain is temporarily gone. And here I am writing to you...whoever you are.

This is the second time this pain has made me quiver and ache in places I didn't know existed on my body. The first time happened right after Thanksgiving and my doctor sent me to the hospital that time. I vowed not to return to that place until I knew I was actually in labor. Provo hospitals do little to nothing for women not in labor. Two more months of being uncomfortable will all become worth it when our little one arrives.

To switch subjects entirely without any amazing transition, I wanted to post some pictures from Christmas morning. I am so behind. We spent Christmas here at home. We opened presents, ate amazing ham and coffee cake, watched a movie, went on a walk and drank hot chocolate together before bed. Perfection.








More pictures of our New Year's trip to Arizona and the temple lights coming soon.

3 comments :

  1. I'm only mentioning it because what you're describing sounds so similar to how I felt. And you obviously know what you're feeling better than I do but what you described kind of sounded like a gallbladder attack. Like I said I could be completely wrong but maybe not? Hopefully you get feeling better. When are you due?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Janine,

    Oh, dear. I am so sorry. I am keeping you in my prayers honey, child! That's awful. If I were there I would be waiting on you hand and foot. I would make you laugh, rub your back, light candles, play dominos....anything! Because that's what friends do. Hang in there.

    Love,

    Ashley

    ReplyDelete
  3. i'm so sorry you hurt like that... I was cringing for you over here... I was thinking about the pain in my stomach I have after running a marathon and then tripling it... just to try to imagine how you felt. Glad you are doing better!

    ReplyDelete

"Be kind and considerate with your criticism... It's just as hard to write a bad book as it is to write a good book." Malcolm Cowley