Don't worry; the drugs are fully sanctioned by my doctors. And yes, everybody's fine.
Nothing like getting kicked when you're down. I was just getting over that stupid cold, FINALLY, when Mother of All Headaches stopped by for a visit. Well, okay, I've had worse headaches. Lots worse. But it's been years. And a lot has changed since then, like having a boisterous toddler (almost toddler, actually... dawdler?) and a boisterous fetus. Even though it totally ruined the weekend, I must say the timing on this headache was perfect.
It started as a nice, meek tension headache sometime around Friday. I usually ignore those, since there's not much I can do about them except wait for my neck muscles to unclench (thank you, pregnancy, for robbing me of my sweet, sweet ibuprofen; well, actually, until 30 weeks I'm allowed to take it when absolutely necessary, but I limit myself to the really bad headaches). And then I was really stupid and gorged myself on sugar Friday and Saturday, forgetting that sugar is a migraine trigger. It's been so long since I had a migraine that I haven't had to worry about it in ages. Anyway, the real beating started on Sunday, and James--wonderful James!--picked up the slack like a champion. Cheerfully, even. I think I'll keep him.
So I spent Sunday moaning and clutching my head. And since there was no light/sound sensitivity this time around, I just thought it was a really bad tension headache. Of course, then the throbbing temple vein and the nausea set in on Monday, and I figured it out. Thankfully, I had a doctor's appointment yesterday. That meant I didn't have to deal with The Child all day and feel guilty about lying on the couch and moaning instead of showing her love and affection an all that other garbage kids apparently need in quantity.
Headaches make me stupid. Stupider, at least. I get dull-witted and slow and kind of look stoned. Sometimes I mouth-breathe because *smells make it hurt more. I also hate it when people think I'm stupid, especially doctors. Not that any of my current doctors have treated me that way. But people in general (and here I'm talking about my experiences waitressing) often treat me like I'm dumb, mostly because I still look like I'm about twelve. And I turn into a blithering, inarticulate moron whenever I'm nervous. So. I promise this is going somewhere.
(*Do you have any idea what kind of superpower Migraine Nose and Pregnancy Nose become when they mate? My goodness, people. I was lying on the couch last night while James fed The Child, and I could smell the fruit cup from there. I had a blanket around my head, and I was twenty feet away, facing in the opposite direction. There's got to be a market for this.)
I hadn't intended to bring up my headache with the doctor, because what's he going to do about it? (see previous, regarding headaches making me stupid) But when he walked in (and by the way, he's a new doctor with the practice, and I love him every bit as much as I do the others, and where do they find these doctors?) and asked, "How are you today?" I said, "I've had a headache for three days, but otherwise I'm okay," intending to explain to him that headaches make me stoopid, so he would have to speak slowly and in small syllables.
Instead he said, "Oh?" all concerned-like, and then, "Is it a migraine? Does this happen often?" and a bunch of other questions I don't remember because I was too busy drooling on my socks. At that point I hadn't figured out if it was a migraine or not, so my answers were pretty useless. But he gave me a small prescription for oxycodone just so I could function until the headache went away.
Oh, and the baby is fine, and I'm gaining weight, finally, despite going days where all I can eat is lettuce. Another reason I love this practice: they listen to the woman who is actually carrying the baby. When I say something like, "Well, I think this baby's going to be a lot smaller than Grace was," I don't get patronizing head pats and stupid smiles. Dr. R told me that a woman's feel for the baby's size is about as accurate as an estimate made from ultrasound. Well, a woman who's had at least one other child to compare it to, at least. And I'm almost certain this baby is going to be small compared to The Child. Yet another reason I'm leaning more heavily toward a VBAC, but we'll wait and see on that; it's still early yet to judge the size on this one.
(I'm really sorry for the rambling, by the way. Headache is mostly gone, but I took another pill a while ago, and it makes me a little garrulous and incoherent. It also makes me really emotional. The I-love-you-so-much-I'm-crying kind of emotional, which is really weird and uncomfortable for me.)
So, I got my prescription filled (took forever because it was lunchtime), headed home, took some drugs, and then waited for the headache to go away. Only it didn't really go away. The pills definitely diminished the pain, and kind of wrapped it in a fuzzy blanket and set it far in the back of my mind, so it was no longer a flashing neon light directly in front of me. But it was still there. My mom stayed a while extra so I could lie down for a bit. And then shortly after The Child took her nap, and then James got home and did most of the parenting for the rest of the night. Cheerfully, again. I landed me a good one.
So, today has been better. I'm exhausted and my head is still protesting a little, but I got ten hours of sleep. Yeah, TEN. The Child has a sixth sense. Yesterday she was all sweetness and light and easy napping. And today has been more of the same. I keep telling people that 2.0 is going to be a nightmare from the start. She's got to be. The Child has used up all the good baby points for this family.
I've started swimming again. I know, I know, not supposed to start any new exercise during pregnancy, blah blah blah. Well, 15 minutes twice a week isn't going to bring on early labor. Especially when 8 of those minutes are spent panting in the shallow end. I needed something to make up for all the walking I'm not going to be able to do now that the weather's cold. And we are NOT going to have another winter like the last one. I didn't realize just how miserable I was until spring came, and I'd regained half the baby weight, and I could barely walk up a flight of stairs without dying.
The high school, which is just two blocks from us, has an hour of free lap swimming every Monday and Wednesday evening. It's a stupid time slot, and almost worthless, but I think I prefer it this way. If it were open every night, I'd feel pressured to go all the time, and then, of course, I wouldn't go all the time, and then I'd feel guilty, and after just a day or two of swimming, I'd quit entirely. This way I can keep reminding myself that it's only twice a week, and I can easily handle that.
I didn't go last night because my head was doing its best to force me into suicide, but I'm going tomorrow. As depressing as it was to get back in the pool and find out just how far I've fallen, I still felt really, really good afterward. My knee and foot didn't ache like they do when I haul myself around on land, and even though I'm out of shape, I'm still a darn good swimmer. It feels awesome to do something I'm good at. I'm not talentless, but I'm not a superstar in anything; I never was in swimming, either, but I think it's the furthest above average I've ever been in anything. Except for maybe Sudoku, but they don't hand out medals for that.