I don’t want to sound like a negative nelly, but… Why do I always get myself into these situations? Seriously!

I was having a lousy day, waking up early and thus being more nauseous than usual, had a good midwife appoint and everything was just “perfect,” went to the store and waddled through the store marvelling at how well my pubic symphysis was doing compared to weeks prior; Then playing taxi for my husband and driving him out to lunch with his friend.

My morning of errands had wrapped up and I had an hour to waste before playing taxi again for my husband to take him to physio. My 5-year-old was in the front yard picking flowers while I was in the kitchen, tidying up.

I heard a shriek from the front yard — one of those cries that you know something is very wrong and you must get there ASAP to comfort your kid! So, despite my logical thought process “don’t rush, just walk.” I booked it down the hallway as fast as I could. It only took two full strides before the damage was done, yet I kept running as fast as I could until I made it outside. I had done something to my pubic symphysis and I could not move my legs – the pain was too much. I tried pushing through it, attempting to crawl closer to my daughter, but nothing. I couldn’t do it. I burst into tears not only from the pain but from my inability to grab my daughter and hug her.

I managed to get my daughter to get closer to me so I could hug her and investigate her owie while trying not to cry. She had a large area of abrasion on her tummy… Poor girl! I told her to go lay down on the couch in the living room.

So there I sat. Outside. In the front yard, struggling to stand up. I couldn’t pull my legs underneath myself. I couldn’t get myself up through sheer willpower like I normally would. The pain was too great. After what seemed like forever, I finally managed to wriggle up to a standing position using my dog — little bugger had escaped out the front door while I had exited — and a fence post.

Hunched over with both hands resting on my thighs, I hobbled indoors and fell to my knees. It hurt more than I can describe to crawl, yet I crawled to the kitchen to turn the tap on that I had left on and… I don’t know how, but I grabbed an ice pack and a cloth to bring to my daughter in the living room. Asked her to lay down and gave her the nurse mommy treatment before I finally collapsed on the floor.

I called my husband using the phone that was fortunately on the coffee table. No answer. I am going to kill him.

My laptop was a few feet behind me, but I wriggled my body those few excruciating feet, opened it up and asked my sister via MSN to text my husband and have him call home. She did and he did.

On the advice of my first responder father-in-law, we took an ambulance to the hospital and our precious little, injured girl went off with her nana and papa.

Long story made… Uh, well still long, I got a shot of morphine and a shot of gravol. Unfortunately, I did not react well to the morphine.

It dimmed the pain enough for me to walk from the car back into my house, but not before I threw up in the pharmacy parking lot. I threw up every 10-20 minutes from 7:00 PM until 3 or 4:00 AM. Then, I was only throwing up every 20-30 minutes. I couldn’t keep anything down. It was like revisiting the first trimester all over again.

At 8:30 AM, I threw up for the last time and sure enough, there was blood in my vomit. Likely a bleeding ulcer caused from all the throwing up.

So, it’s been a day and a half since I’ve last thrown up. After losing 7 lbs in water weight I have finally gained it all back – not too shabby. I can’t walk well enough to leave the house, I can’t drive, I can’t dress myself, I can’t get into bed by myself, I can’t bathe myself, and only now am I able to eat some-what normally again.

Man, this pregnancy is a doozy.