Reflux Revisited

WARNING: The following blog entry contains graphic information that might gross you out.

Okay, so every pregnancy it happens. That horrible reflux that comes sometime after the half-way point and goes away as soon as the baby arrives. But this time was different. I hit the 20 week mark...nothing. 24 weeks...nothing. 30 weeks...STILL no reflux. Bring on the enchiladas.

So, Friday night I had pizza for dinner. I felt good. But as the night wore on, I started feeling it. That burning that starts in my chest, and slowly comes up and just hangs out in my throat. Ew. So I'm sitting in bed (not laying down hoping gravity will do it's thang). Jeremy begins to snore. And I just feel horrible. Can't get comfortable. Maybe a bath would relax me.

So I'm in the bathroom with the dogs. They look up at me like, "What the? It's midnight. We were sleeping, and you woke us up to take a bubble bath?" Ahhh. Much better. So, I get out of the tub, put on my pj's, hop into bed, repeating over and over in my head, "You're fine. You are great. Mind over matter."

Then suddenly, I got the feeling. You know the one. When you realize there's no turning back, and you just have to throw up and get it over with. I went into the bathroom. Both dogs lift their heads like, "Now what?" Now, ask anyone who's ever been 31 weeks pregnant. You're just not as agile as you were pre-pregnancy. The closer I got to the toilet, I realized it was coming quick. I didn't have time to really get down on my knees--barely had time to lift the toilet seat.

I promise I'll spare details. Let's just say, when I'm pregnant, and have these reflux episodes, they can get pretty violent. Not good for someone with, say, "stress incontinence." So, I'm puking up a lung, and just peeing down my leg. Uncontrollably. My dog Happy decides to see what all the fuss is about. So, she's behind me, sniffing. In between 'rounds' I yell, "Happy, get out!" Well, all that does is interest Mack. Now he's up, trying to make his way into the tiny toilet area in my bathroom with me, the vomit, and Happy. This is just disgusting. I start yelling for Jeremy to come and get the dogs out of my face, etc. No answer. "Jeremy! Hurry!" Nothing. I mean, seriously??

So I clean up. Change clothes. Get some water. Rinse with listerine. I turn around, and Mack is licking the side of the toilet. Dogs are so gross. I leave the bathroom, and there's Jeremy. Sound asleep in bed. Still snoring. I have this problem where, if I have been in complete misery, he should at least know about it. I got into bed with a huff, and hit him. Hard. I mean, so uncalled for. He said, "My gosh! What??" "Stop snoring. It's disgusting. Oh, and thanks for helping me with the dogs while I was throwing up in the bathroom. It was great."