Our Friday Night

Let me tell you something about being sick while you're pregnant. Pretty much, there's not a whole lot you can do about it. You can take tylenol to keep the fever down and help with the aches, and you can rest. And drink plenty of fluids. And then just wait, which will take twice as long as it usually would, because when you're pregnant you're immune system is running especially slow so that it doesn't fight off the baby (just learned that last night, interesting huh?). Wednesday I started running a low grade fever, but the tylenol, for the most part, kept it in it's place pretty well. Thursday a nasty cough started up, but I could deal with it as long as I didn't feel the fever. And then yesterday, it all came tumbling down- the aches, the cough, the head congestion, overwhelming exhaustion- making me practically delirious, totally unable to think straight. I couldn't avoid work, because we're ALL sick, and I felt too guilty to abandon my other sick colleagues on our busiest day of the week. But it just got progressively worse all day, I thought I would die before six o'clock finally came around.

But the time finally did come, and I made a beeline for my apartment as soon as the lights were out. On the short drive home, I thought about my apartment and how there was just absolutely no way I was going to be able to muster the energy to clean anything at all and that it would just have to go on day 3 and possibly day 4 of not being in decent condition. But the thought just added to my misery. I really didn't want to have to wallow in our filth feeling so sick. When I opened the door and turned on the kitchen light, something most definitely didn't look right. It took me a second to realize our piles of stuff weren't on the kitchen table. And that the dishes weren't covering the counter. Not daring to hope, I slowly took a few steps and turned on the living room light- clean too! I couldn't pause to put my purse down or take my coat off, I ran (hobbled, really) upstairs to investigate the bedroom, which was, of course, completely clean- bed neatly made and all. Chris had cleaned it all! I very nearly cried as I collapsed on the bed. It sounds small, but it felt monumental to me.

And when he got home, my already overworked husband spent his friday night (seriously, until 11:00pm) doing chemistry homework. Which means he went to bed feeling super stressed out. Which means he tossed and turned, and threw off the covers, and then wrapped himself back up in the covers, then got tangled up twisting and turning in them, only to get frustrated and throw them off again- over and over again. So, I'm laying there, half dead it seems, trying to comfort him so he can sleep. I pull him over to me and rub his head and his back trying to soothe him- and I'm thinking to myself that I'm having some kind of preview "mom" moment. You know, sick as a dog and still trying to take care of someone else. So, as soon as I start feeling like some kind of super woman, I start hacking up a lung and realize it's past time to take my sudafed and refill the vicks vapor in the humidifier (both of which I totally underestimated- they really help a lot when you can't take the good stuff). So I'm trying to do that, but can't manage to stand up to get out of bed because I'm doubled over coughing so hard.

And, without even heaving an exasperated sigh, Chris gets up, helps me to get back into bed and pulls the covers up over my chest. He gets my sudafed, and fills up the humidifier. And then he rubs MY back until I've finally calmed down enough that I can breathe again. Again, that might sound kind of small, but at the time it felt anything but. And it just reminded me that I'll have a partner in all of this parenting stuff-- a good one too.

So that's it, that was our crummy Friday night- but I came out of it feeling pretty happy about my life and the person I picked to help me through things. Funny how feeling so horrible can sometimes feel so good.