So my mucus plug fell out, and 12 hours later I was in the hospital. Except not for a happy reason.



I woke up Thursday morning at 6 a.m. sick to my stomach, then proceeded to throw up for two hours before waking up Jason. My fever got up to 102, so we called my doctor, and she asked me to come in. My fever wouldn't break. They admitted me.

 

24 hours later, it still refused to go away, and even got up to 103.5, sending Adelyn's poor little heartbeat up to 200 for a good few hours.

 

We're still not sure what was wrong (I think just a Crohn's outbreak, my doctor thinks a stomach virus that's going around and just hit me particularly hard). But they released me this morning after I finally managed to go fever-free all night.

 

I'll write more about the experience later. First I need to get the smell of hospital off me and take a much-needed nap in my own non sweat-soaked bed. Suffice it to say, for now, that I'm no longer in a crazy rush to give birth. I remembered how much I hate hospitals, and I spent three days terrified I would go into labor while suffering a high fever. (At one point I woke up so weak I couldn't move my legs off the bed to go pee, and when the nurses hooked me up to the monitors I was having contractions every two minutes. Luckily, they stopped after an hour or so, and only dilated me to a 1 and left me 80% effaced. Because at that moment I literally couldn't imagine having the strength to push a baby out).

 

Nap time.




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