It’s been quite a week. In fact, I’m not really sure where the past seven days have gone.
Early Sunday morning I woke up with intense abdominal pain. I ended up taking a Percocet I had left over from my cesarean recovery and was able to fall back to sleep. The pain persisted throughout Sunday, and by Monday evening it was pretty evident that I needed to go to the hospital. I called my sister, who came over to watch the girls (and was given a crash course in being up with a newborn all night long). We arrived at the Emergency Room where I was given a battery of tests (related: ER’s are seriously wild places, particularly on a full moon). After a CT Scan and Uterine Ultrasound, fluid was found in my right fallopian tube. I was admitted and kept over night for an infection, and given IV antibiotics. I came home yesterday morning with two prescriptions and an order not to lift anything heavier than my newborn. My follow up ultrasound is scheduled for next Wednesday. The hope is not necessarily that things have resolved, but that they haven’t gotten worse.
I’m going to be real with you guys; this has been difficult. I am not the type of person who gets sick. I am not the type of person who slows down. Really, ever. After having Gemma, I bounced back almost immediately, walking, exercising, and healing at record pace. I simply assumed that this time, the postpartum period would be similar. Not so. In the past six weeks I’ve recovered from surgery, only to experience a bout with mastitis, and now this.
I’m certainly not looking for sympathy; I wanted to share my story, mostly because I felt many of you would identify with certain aspects of it. As mothers, we tend to put ourselves last, and ask for help infrequently. I knew something was wrong this weekend, but decided not to seek medical attention because I didn’t want to leave my two children; it simply seemed too complicated. I have an almost four year old, and a newborn, and I was needed here. I convinced myself that things would resolve. That I wasn’t really in discomfort, just experiencing a few small contractions; nothing to be concerned about, really.
My mom will be here for the remainder of the week, and I’ve received so many offers of help from neighborhood friends, it’s truly heart warming. I’m trying to take advantage of an opportunity to rest, despite the persistent pull from every other corner of my life.
I suppose sometimes we all need a little reminder that to be present for our children, we need to be present for ourselves.