I'd rather a new pair of shoes

In honor of Memorial day I did what the many Americans who were not on a lake or a beach somewhere did - I browsed the sales at the mall. When you are nearly 30 weeks pregnant there is really nothing that you might actually commit to buy because for this larger season of life there is nothing, no invention that can make you feel too much better - with the exception of shoes. When I look at my feet - I don't think I am pregnant. They are the only thing that looks as normal as they did 8 months ago. So I tried on many a pair of summery sandals - atleast if I can't partake in a cute summer strapless dress then I can fancy my feet in some new sandals.

Luckily, my will power won and I walked out from the mall without even a small purchase but I had many images in my head of my cute feet and painted toes on a beach somewhere in a new pair of summer sandals.

That was Monday.

Yesterday, after visions of straps and colors and wedges danced in my head I woke up to chest pain. Thank you, hormones and your compadre - baby Bingo. I've always had funny issues with breathing and all the testing and doctor visits have never amounted to much more than a bunch of prescriptions that I never fill and lots of frustration. I have just learned to live with my shortness of breath over the years and in the meantime I just hope I am never stuck under water for any reason. Well yesterday the pain persisted no matter what position I tried and no matter how much relaxing I attempted. So as every stubborn pregnant lady would do I finally called the doctors line at the OB office - after hours. It wouldn't have been as much fun to just call the office when they were open. So a phone call later and lots of pleading with my sweet husband to let me be and not force me to do as I was told and go to the ER - he won and I found myself for the first time driving to the ER. I bargained with my grueling caretaker by saying I would only go IF I got to go alone and I promised I would call at any mention of something more serious than just another complication caused by the growing person in my belly. I almost turned and went to Nordstrom to just buy the pair of shoes that had taken over my thoughts for nearly a day but I knew Brad would be very unhappy with me and so for once, I did just as I was told. I'll admit - I was quite frightened on my drive over....not because my heart was being pierced with a knife every time I inhaled but because I had never been to the ER and all I knew of it was from Grey's Anatomy and the long gone show - ER.

The Northside hospital ER is not at all like the real ER on tv.

There was no screaming or rushing or doctors kissing in the elevator. Actually I only saw one doctor and she was in jeans and a turtle neck - no white coat here. No one rushed me through the doors to hook me up to any machines - they just asked me to take my seat and wait for my name to be called. At this point I decided I liked the ER. The waiting area was surprisingly clean and the Office was on the tv above my head. There were only a few other people sitting in the area just sipping on Starbucks. I think I could make this a regular Tuesday night occasion!

Not too many minutes passed before my name was called by a normal looking nurse. She asked me lots of questions and for the first time in awhile I felt interesting. Yes, I have a baby at home and one on the way and no, neither were planned. This nurse was dying for children and I actually felt like she was a little envious of me. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to cause envy and I do pray that this sweet nurse is blessed with kiddos very soon but rarely is there a time that I meet a woman that is envious of my "predicament." {I'm kidding. I don't really think this is predicament, folks, I know it is a blessing but I like to call it my predicament. Just had to clarify....} I think I was beaming as I spoke of my family back at home who was anxiously awaiting news of my diagnosis (or fast asleep on the couch but I like to think they were on pins and needles.}

Anyway, I was then walked to a room and given the standard hospital gown. Aside from this one small detail as I think hospital gowns just stink like old old ladies that have lived in the same house for 40 years and never cleaned out their drawers - I liked the rest of my set up. I was able to watch a little tv in peace. No one really bothered me that often and when they did they were entirely focused on me and my sharp pains in my chest. Had I not the reminder of where I was coming from the stench of the gown - I would have thought Brad had sent me to the spa. I was hand delivered a Sprite with my favorite kind of ice. The PA wasn't that bad looking and though I know I was one of 50 rooms - he made me think I was the only one in the ER that night. The nurses all wanted to comment on my necklace and my pretty-pregnancy hair. I tell you ......the ER is the place to go if you want to feel better about yourself or your predicament!

Several hours later I was diagnosed with the worst possible scenario. Severe acid-reflux that would not alleviate itself until delivery. Sweet! Don't get me wrong, I could have been suffering a heart attack as the neurotic doctor on the phone earlier in the day first concluded but instead I had spent 3 hours in the ER and a few hundred dollars just to hear that my palate is too spicy for my body to handle and I'd need to cut back on the chips and salsa! I am royally embarrassed and a little bummed that my toes probably won't look cute in those sandals this weekend in Charleston because I blew any money we didn't already have by hanging out at the ER - aka the spa on a Tuesday night!

Dear sweet growing baby in my belly,
I love that you are always reminding me that you are happy in there. Never is there a moment without your foot or elbow digging into my side. I know you think this place is your home and for a little while longer you can stay but it is not your home - it is mine and I can't wait for you to come out into your real home and give me back my body! I love salsa and spicy food and you don't'! You have so kindly pushed my esophagus so far out of it's normal place that any drop of acid leaks into the wrong places and I feel it for days. Can we compromise? No more lemonade, salsa, or pizza for me and please, dear one, no more reminding me of the strength of your little legs in the middle of the night. We only have 10 more weeks of sharing spaces and I really think we can make this work and enjoy the last few months together if we can just get along. Please consider. I love you all the way up to the moon - even if you keep me up all night, cause me to itch, have put pressure on my tail bone, cause me not to breathe during the day, have given me stretch marks and headaches and then kindly caused my hips to spread just so I'll always remember you. I do, I love you. Oh, and just in case you are my competitive child - you're the winner! I had NONE of these symptoms with your older brother and I don't think any less of him. Love you baby!

Love,
Mama