Miracle #4

Katelyn Rose

The twins were 9 months old, and we had finally settled into a nice routine. They were almost walking, and had transitioned to a sippy cup instead of a bottle. (Granted it wasn't much different than a bottle, LOL, it was just cheaper!) Then one day, I just got that feeling. The same feeling I had when I knew I was pregnant with the twins. Bryan didn't want me to take a pregnancy test. I guess he just didn't want to know. So, I went on my lunch break one day and picked up a test. I took it in the bathroom at work. I was working at a daycare, and had been since a little before we conceived the twins. I had taken a bit of time off after they were born, so I think I had only been back to work for maybe 6 months.

Another teacher was standing outside the bathroom when I came out, and saw my face. She knew then too. Said there was only one reason to look that way after being in the bathroom. :) Yep, the test was positive. So again, I called up my doctors office and asked to come in for a blood test. That evening, it was confirmed. I was pregnant. I was a pregnant mother of 9 month old twins. Holy crap!

Bryan couldn't believe it. Wanted to know what had happened, how in the world? Like I've got an answer to that question besides the obvious! LOL. But all I could come up with is that God has a strange sense of humor.

When I went in for my first OB appointment, my doctor walked into the room, shook my hand and said "Valeri, your the one person I never expected to see back here this soon!" Yeah, me too doc, me too!

The pregnancy was a difficult one. My body wasn't quite ready to be pregnant. I showed even faster than I did when I was pregnant with the twins, and I was sick. Very sick. I had intense morning sickness, and I had never done that before. With Dylan, I didn't have any really. I just didn't want to eat with him, had no appetite. With the twins, I had a little bit of nausea in the beginning.. but it passed early on. And I ate everything in site until there was no more room for my stomach in my own body. LOL. But, with this pregnancy.. I had each and everyone of those. I was sick sick sick, I was hungry hungry hungry, I was disinterested in food... Repeat pattern over and over and over. It was crazy.

It was early on that my Doctor decided this pregnancy was different for me, and put me on depression meds. Actually, I asked for them. It was pretty clear I was dealing with more than the usual hormonal cry at every commercial issue.

The day we went in for the ultrasound to determine gender, I was completely sure we were having another boy. That was my track record, ya know. Boys boys boys. There was so much testosterone in my home that I was producing high levels of it too! They had rubbed off on me!!! ROFL! So when the technician told us that this time, its a girl.... I didn't believe her. I asked her to check again. And she did, and said "yep still a girl". We repeated this at every single ultrasound until birth. HAHA. We also repeated the teasing. The "Oh gosh, I think I see more in here" or "Did the Doctor talk to you yet? We think you are having triplets". They nurses did this at every visit, with big huge smiles on their faces and laughter echoing down the hallways. And the doctor, he was in on it too!! Drove me crazy. They would try to switch it up, catch me off guard. And a couple times it worked, and I waited all freaked out for the doctor to come in and laugh "Got ya this time!" There is something to be said about a doctor with a sense of humor... but ummm.... at this point, I've had my fill of strange sense of humors!

I didn't open any of the baby girl stuff. Didn't take off tags from the clothing. I was so sure that somehow, at delivery, she would morph into a boy. I even had a boys name all picked out, as well as twin versions for both a girl and a boy... Just in case. I was covering basis. I mean, I was living the "stranger things can happen" scenario already, wasn't I? Things could get stranger, seemed almost like a given! HAHA. But boy did I want her to be a girl. I wanted that badly. I can't even express how much. I love my boys, and wouldn't trade them for the world, but I did want that baby girl too.

Somewhere in the craziness, we decided to move. I quit my job, we bought a house with 4 bedrooms and a large playroom, and moved 60 miles north to where Bryan was working. It was insanity, but worth it after we settled in. We celebrated the twins first birthday in the new house.

At about 5 months, I started to wear down physically. I was exhausted, and in alot of pain. My doctor said it was from my hips spreading to fast.. all I know is it was bad. I could hardly walk. I felt like I had to carry my belly everywhere I went. If I didn't support it, the baby would just fall out. I was put on modified bedrest. If we went anywhere, I had to ride in a wheelchair. I hated that. HATED that. I didn't have to do that with the twins at all, but did with Dylan. It didn't help that I was bigger than I had ever been while pregnant. I carried this baby so very different, and it showed. At 6 months, I was huge.


And the biggest frustration, I was alone. Bryan was traveling extensively for work. He was gone for weeks at a time, only to come home for a weekend and head back out at the beginning of the next week. It was very hard. I was taking care of the twins, suppose to be on bedrest, and I felt completely and totally alone. My mom eventually came up and stayed with me. I think she practically lived at my house for 3 or 4 months. She was a life savor, and I am extremely grateful for all the help she gave me. I wouldn't have been able to do it with out her. She gave the boys attention, when I was spent and couldn't. She would force me to bed, or make me stop cleaning and take over. At the time, it was frustrating (the cleaning)... but now looking back, she was more than a blessing and I love her even more for it.

Baby girl was born 6 weeks early, via a c-section. I went into the doctor on monday because I was hurting more than usual. I had this sharp pain that had started the week before, that just kept getting worse. When I got to the doctors office, he didn't want to let me go home but decided that sleeping in my own bed would be better than a stay over night at the hospital and allowed me to go. It was a scary night, cause he really didn't tell me why he was rushing the c-section besides a scary comment of "I am surprised you made it through the weekend without delivery. Go home, lay down and don't get back up." And that is exactly what I did.

Delivery day was crazy. I hate c-sections, I've had one for every pregnancy, and they stress me out terribly. With Dylan, the experience was bad. So many things went wrong, and no matter how many times I told myself that I was in better care now, the fear never went away. By the time I was wheeled into the delivery room, I was a big ball of scared beyond belief. The twins' c-section went fine, with no complications at all. I was alert and responsive, experiencing everything all through recovery. But, this time, I was still terrified. Did not help when my doctor informed me that if we had waited one more day, or even a few more hours, we would have lost baby girl. That pain I kept complaining off? Baby girl was falling out of my uterus. It had torn, and one of her legs had fallen out. I remember not breathing in that moment, waiting for him to deliver her and hear her cry. I was terrified that we had waited too long. In the moment I heard her, I felt every bit of the tension that had built up in my body, just flow off of me like waves of water. I was staring in Bryan's eyes, and he was trying to reasure me... and I think we both started crying at the same exact time. I saw the fear in his eyes too, and watched it flow away just the same as mine. And the only words I could think to say? "Is it a girl?"

Yes, it is. A beautiful, wonderful, loudly crying baby girl!! Katelyn Rose. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life. They brought her over to me, and I just ran my fingers down her cheeks, thinking that I was the most blessed woman ever alive. My daughter was here, after one of the scariest pregnancies, and she would be joining a family so happy and eager to have her with them. The twins were super excited, in their 18 month old way, to finally see the baby thats been in mommy's tummy all this time. And Dylan, he was the most attentive older brother in the world. He adored his sister from the moment he saw her.

I bounced back from this C-section faster than my other two. I was out of the hospital and home in 1 day. Seriously. I only spent one night at the hospital. I had been down for so long already, I was ready to get up and run. Katelyn had a struggle for the first year of her life. At 3 months of age, she was diagnosed with "failure to thrive" which was very scary. She wouldn't gain weight, and would even lose some. Between her 2nd month visit and her 3rd, she had lost 2 pounds. Dispite that, this girl has always been a mover and shaker. She was crawling at 4 months. Not rolling over, crawling. She was the most determined baby ever. The Case workers from Early intervention were astounded by her. She was the littlest thing for the longest time, but that didn't stop her at all. She rated 2 months above her age for development, and 3 months below on growth. It was the strangest thing ever. And to this day, she is still doing things above her age... she's right there with the boys, who are 18 months older than her, on most things. And some things, she's even doing better than them. She learned to talk very very early on, and I don't think she's stopped since. In fact, she was making vocal sounds in the hospital the day she was born. We called the nurses in all scared cause she was making this grunting noise... and they smiled and informed us that she was "talking". No truer words ever spoken about my Katelyn. She's "talked" since day one. I've got a video clip of her at 3 months talking into the phone to her grandma. :)

Katelyn is now 3 years old, and is the life and party of our house. She runs circles around all three boys, and rules the house... just ask her! But even with all her spunk and attitude, she is the sweetest, most cuddly child I have. She will come over and give me a kiss or a hug at any given time during the day. And it always brightens my mood. She is joy, in a little body. And I thank god every day for blessing me with her. With her birth, I learned that sometimes things seem so very overwhelming but, in the end that in itself is a blessing too. I can not imagine my life with out my daughter, she completes our family. Yes, its crazy having three children that are less than 2 years apart... but it is also a ton of fun. There is never a dull moment in my life, and I remember praying for just that, an exciting life. I didn't think it would come in the form of so many miracles, but I am beyond thankful that it did. I started my journey to motherhood believing that it would never happen. That I would never have my own children. The road was long, and filled with obsticales along the way, but here I sit, 13 years later with a full house of noise, toys, craziness, fussiness, and love... Lots and lots of love. And I wouldn't change a thing. Ever.

Miracles #2 and #3

Dylan spent the first 7 years of his life as an only child. We wanted more children, but it just wasn't going so well. I had my first miscarriage when Dylan was about 3. It was devastating, and I didn't handle it very well. I became angry and depressed. Very much so. Then about a year later, I had another miscarriage. And I became silent. I don't think I told anyone, except my husband, about this one, because it was just too much for me to handle. I started shutting myself off from everything and everyone.

In 2001, we decided, after the big flood in Houston took my husband's job, that we would relocate to a small town where my brother lived. We moved into a house, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by ranch land and the Brazos river. Dylan was 5, and started school shortly after we moved. I spent the days alone, trying to deal with all the walls I had put up.. all the anger, the depression. I would walk every single day, down to the river and just sit and throw rocks into the water. For hours. I would think, and pray. And pray. And pray. And I would listen. Listen to the sounds around me. The sounds of peace. Quite. Solitude. Serenity. It was in this place that I started to heal. So that after 2 years, when my third miscarriage came, instead of pulling even further into myself... I did the opposite. I reached out. I was finally strong enough. And I credit the time I spent on introspection, in prayer, listening, healing, living.. with out it, I would not have survived the third.

I was finally diagnosed with PCOS, was put on some medication that could possibly help. I started seeing an amazing Doctor's assistant, that really took a special interest in me and my health. She saved the day when the meds my Gyn gave me started messing up my liver, and switched me immediately. We talked a lot about my difficulty in conceiving, and my inability to stay that way once I did conceive. She was interested, and wanted to help. She researched things, came up with answers. This is the type of doctor every single person should have. A blessing, when I needed one most.

I stopped walking down to the river, and started working outside the home. I started connecting with people again. And it felt good. Better than solitude. I was finally back invested in life.

And thats when it happened.

I new I was pregnant very early on. I could almost say immediately. I just felt different all of a sudden, and it wasn't going away. I called up my Doctor's office and asked if I could come in and have a blood test done. That very same day, My doctor calls me at work and says " I thought you said you couldn't get pregnant? Why then do I have a report on my desk that says your blood test is positive?" Positive! I was pregnant. And terrified.

When I went into the OB, they did a urine test, just to verify since I didn't have the blood test done through them... And the nurse showed me the dip stick, because it was unusually high... her words "You are Very pregnant!" This was the only visit I had with them, and quickly changed OB's because of some personal reasons. I really didn't like the doctor, he was great for treating my PCOS, but I didn't feel comfortable that he would be able to help me through a pregnancy... or another miscarriage. I talked with my amazing Family Doctor's Assistant, and she recommended a couple different OB's.

I settled on one, only because after calling his office with a question about a Vback, HE called me back HIMSELF and talked with me for 45 minutes. He was another blessing, an amazing OB, and to this day I would recommend him to anyone. But, that's getting ahead of myself! LOL

My first visit with the new OB went really well. Your typical first visit. I explained my fears about misscarriage, and he promised to be there every step of the way, and even had recomendations for therapy contacts, just in case. He was very knowledgeable about my PCOS, and for the first time, I learned from my doctor instead of having to do my own research. I was put as high risk, and had visits every 2 weeks, due to my tendency to miscarry. I was very thankful that he was taking this approach, mainly to sooth my worries.

On probably my 5th visit, and my second ultrasound.... Everything in my life changed dramatically.

I remember it so very vividly. My husband didn't come with me, as it was just a routine visit. He had come to the first ultrasound, but the baby was too small then to even hear its heartbeat. We figured since it had only been two weeks, it would probably be much the same. They were doing the ultrasounds to measure the baby, making sure it was growing... .miscarriage prevention, if you can call it that. It was reassuring to me, and that's all that mattered. But, this day.... this ultrasound..... turned out to be very different.

I remember laying there, watching the screen, when the Ultrasound tech starting sitting up straighter. She looked over at me, with this little smile, and asked me if I was happy about the pregnancy.

"Yes, We've been trying so very long. We are hoping this time things go ok"

"You've had trouble?"

"Yeah, alot. I've had a few miscarriages and I don't ovulate very often."

"Do you have any other children?"

"a seven year old son. He's very excited about this pregnancy. Been asking for a little brother or sister since he was 2"

"Would he like more than just one brother or sister"

"Sure! I think he'd like several. Hopefully we can have more after this one"

"Do twins run in your family?"

"Twins? Yes, My grandma is a twin. Why?"

"I didn't see it before, or the last time you were here. But I do now. There are two babies. Two heartbeats today."

"Twins?"

"Twins. I need to go fetch the Dr, but he's gonna see what i'm seeing. Your having twins."

It was then that the tears fell. Silent tears. The kind that come with no sob or sound.. they just roll down out of your eyes, and you have no control over it. The ultrasound tech just smiles, squeezes my hand and heads out to find the doctor. Leaving me there to stare at the frozen picture of two tiny little peanuts.

When the doctor gets there, he is wearing the biggest smile I have ever seen on a Doctor... None of my other doctors had ever smiled at me... I was complicated.. even a frustration for some of them. But this doctor, he smiled and was probably just as excited as I was about the prospect of twins.

"Well, Valeri, lets see what we have here!"

And he proceeds to do another ultrasound, looking at the babies... and smiling even bigger!

"Wow! Imagine this! Twins, Valeri! You did tell me something felt different about this pregnancy and you were right! You are defenantly having twins! Look, can you see their hearts beat?'

And I could. I could see every beat. And the tears just kept rolling. I couldn't even talk. I was just beyond happy.. the joy filled me up, and flowed out my eyes.

I drove home in a stupor... trying to figure out how best to tell my husband. I stopped at a walgreens hoping to find a card that said congrats your having twins. I don't even know if there was one there, because everything I read was a blur. My phone kept ringing, and i wouldn't answer it, afraid that I would just scream out to the world that I... I.... I was having twins! And I wanted to tell my husband first before anyone else.

I had to wait hours. I went home and just sat and sat... then paced and paced.. and sat and sat. My son kept asking me what was wrong, and I would shake my head and say "nothing, everything is just right!" and he would give me a funny look and walk away. When my husband finally got home, I was about ready to burst. I met him at the door and asked him to sit down.

"Why? I don't want to. Just tell me. Whats wrong? Something's wrong isn't it?"

"No, will you please just sit down. I'll be right back"

and I went in the room and picked up a picture his mother had given us. It was an Ann Gedies photograph of three babies in a tub. I handed it to my husband and said...

"One of those babies represents Dylan. Whats left?"

"I don't know what you mean.'

"If you take one baby out, that represents Dylan, how many babies are left?"

"Two"

"Thats how many babies we are gonna have"

"What? I don't understand"

"Two, that is how many babies we are going to have. I'm having twins."

He just looks at me for the longest time, then starts to smile and says..

"Wow! Twins? Are you sure? I've got to call my mom and dad!"

And he proceeds to run for the phone and start dialing as I'm yelling out that I get to call my family FIRST I'VE WAITED ALL DAY!!!

The rest of the pregnancy was a dream. I had the best care possible. I worked full time, all the way up till 2 days before having my c-section. I was the happiest woman alive. I was beautiful, even though I was huge. I felt like a princess whose fairy godmother clipped her on the head every morning, dressing her in her ball gown and glass slippers.

Except for the weeks I had the shingles, now I didn't feel so well then.. but when that was over, and the "oh and ahing" by my doctor finally died down (he was so very interested in my shingles case, it was annoying! LOL) I went back to being that princess, glowing and happy.

The day the twins were born was absolutely wonderful. When Dylan was born, I was out from the spinal block for 9 hours. Most of my family members had the chance to hold him before I did. But with the twins, they kept them with me in the recovery room. I got to touch them, kiss them, watch my husband beam as he held them, one in each arm. I watched as my son smiled and proclaimed that he was their big brother. My mom was there, and took pictures of everything...and I didn't care that I was a mess, laying there after a difficult c-section. I was happy. I had my babies. My twins. Finally. Ian and Zachary came into our lives at the moment we were ready for them. Before this, I hated the saying "God gives you what you can handle" Because it was always uttered in regards to the bad things that had happened to me. But now, that had changed... and God did give me what I could handle, when I could handle it.

The next few months were hectic. But I wouldn't change them for the world. Having twins is an experience that teaches patience, understanding, scheduling.... and learning that things just arnt gonna be perfect, but they will still be lovely in their imperfection. My house hasn't been clean since the boys turned 1... toys everywhere you look. Kid stuff, markings on the walls, balls in the corners.. But I love all of it.

Ian and Zachary are now 4 and a half years old. They will start school this September, and I find that shocking. It just seems like yesterday that we were welcoming them into our lives. Yesterday when I handed Bryan the photograph and said we were having twins. Yesterday that we celebrated their first birthday with cakes of their own. Time flies when you are happy.


When the boys were just 9 months old, we got another shock... probably even a bigger shock than learning of the twins. I was pregnant again, with Miracle #4. Spontaneous Fertility after pregnancy, that's what my doctor called it. I called it "God sure does have a strange sense of humor!"

More on Miracle #4 next time. :)

Miracle #1

My children are miracles. Each pregnancy, in my mind, had to be a complete act of God. He has a funny sense of humor, this God we cherish... but, I wouldn't change the way things played out for anything. Today, I'm going to tell you all about miracle #1

Dylan.

When I was 20, I was told that I could never have children. I spent a while digesting that. Talking it out with my boyfriend, who I had planned to marry. Figuring out how to accept this about myself. I had always seen myself as being a mom. That was my life's goal. for as long as I could remember. It was a hard blow, and dealing with my own fallout over it was difficult. But I did, and then I went back to the doctor to figure out why. No, the doctor didn't tell me why, he just told me I couldn't. Nice Doctor, huh? It gets better....

I saw this doctor a lot over the next few months. I was dealing with severe abdominal pain, had been for years. Long story short, after several months of different stupid treatments that don't work, and tons of frustration on my part... this doctor decides to schedule surgery to diagnose endometriosis.

The week of the surgery, I was scheduled for lots of pre-op stuff at the hospital. One day I had to have chest xrays, another blood work up. On the day that I was there for my blood work up, the nurse started acting a bit funny while reading my paper work. She wanted to know why the doctor hadn't requested a pregnancy test with my blood work. So I tell her that he did a test in the office that was negative. Not blood though, a urine test. She said my dates didn't add up right for her, and that under good concsience she could not sign off on the blood work with out a pregnancy test, and added one to the form. I thanked her, and didn't think anything more on it.

3 days later, the doctor's nurse calls my mom and asks for both of us to come to the office, the Doctor needed to speak to us. My surgery was scheduled for the very next day. We were surprised that the doctor was calling us in, when he would see us first thing in the morning. We thought, maybe, it had to do with a very heated conversation between my mom and the doctor just the day before. He had informed her that his intentions were to do a full historectomy on me, and she informed him that he did not have that consent. In alot more words than that. ;)

When we got to the Doctors office, the nurse immediately takes us back to his actual office, not an exam room, and leaves us there. When the doctor arrives, he brings in two nurses with him... one stands next to me, and the other moves over close to my mom. We were thinking this is all getting kind of strange. And my mom makes a joke to me about the doctor being scared of her.

He sits down at his desk, opens my file and then says "Well, Valeri, I've got good news and better news. Which do you want first?"

"I guess the good news"

"You won't need to come to the hospital tomorrow morning, your surgery has been canceled"

"Really? Why? What happened?" I say as I'm looking back and forth from my mom to the doctor completely and totally confused.

And thats when he says the words that changed my life forever

"The better news is, Valeri, Your Pregnant"

I don't think a body can slump any further into a chair than mine did. To say I was shocked isn't quite enough. I was literally dumbfounded. It felt like the world was in slow motion around me. I watched the Doctor squirm, the nurses smile, then laugh, and I watched as my mom jumped up and down screaming in excitement.

I was 20 years old, not married, and pregnant. It took a while before my mom's kind of excitement hit me.

But it did. I became so very excited with the life that grew inside of me. That was the last time we saw that doctor, soon deciding that my care was better off somewhere else. Can't blame me, he almost killed my baby. I can not imagine what would have happened if not for that nurse at the hospital adding the blood test to the sheet. She saved my son.

My life changed so much in the next few months. I got married, moved out of my parents home. I loved being pregnant. Specially that first time. It was all so wonderful, every single change. I remember the first time I felt him move, the first time I heard his heart beat, when we found out he was a he, all of it...

At 6 months, though, things started to go wrong. I was having contractions alot. And my care had been transferred to UTMB in Galveston, as high risk. On one visit, they didn't let me go home. I had to stay there, at a little hotel like setting, where they kept high risk pregnant ladies that didn't need complete hospital care, but did need daily monitoring. There were 20 of us there, give or take. All of us with different issues going on. I was there because Dylan was breech, and I was 75% effaced... at 6 months. I also had this other issue going on. During the same pre-op test that detected my pregnancy, they also found a mass resting near my heart. That mass became the center of all my medical files, while at UTMB. They believed it was the cause of the difficulties in my pregnancy. My heart was beating so very fast, and there was nothing they could do about it. My heartbeat mirrored the babies so closely that they would often mix them up while monitoring. I can't even begin to count the nights I spent in labor and delivery, hooked up to all kinds of monitors and heart thingamagigs, because my heartbeat had increased or my blood pressure was off. I was watched so very closely. And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that no matter how frustrating it seemed at the time... I am here, with a very healthy 12 year old, because of their diligence in treating me.

A baby I couldn't have, that almost was taken away by a bad doctor, whose pregnancy was riddled with difficulty going full term to delivery, and is now a very very happy healthy 12 year old. I would say that falls under miracle, Don't you?

Stay tuned for more miracles, Next miracle #2 and #3. Ian And Zachary.

Medical Tip #1

Schedule your emergencies around Tuesday.

Seriously.

Don't be like me and get seriously sick on Monday, wait a few days until hubby decides he's gonna force you into the doctor.. Give in on Friday cause you just can't stand being this damn sick and even YOU know deep down now that its not just a virus that has to play its course... Drag your lethargic, puking tush into the Dr's office to see another dozen or so faces that look JUST LIKE YOU. Meaning they are all in the "Sicker than Sh!t" stage too, and realize your gonna have to compete for this doctor's attention. Freak out the nurse with medical information, realize you can't give that urine sample you just agreed to cause you puked everything up for 5 days, and then proceed to almost pass out while hunched over the sink in the exam room after the doc checked out that "spot" thats been hurting you for years.

Then, Friday afternoon, at around 3:30... be rushed in after school traffic (why must there be an elementary school on every corner in this town!!) to get to the imaging place so that the Doctor can have a Cat scan report before she leaves the office, and can call you with results. Realize that the time frame just isn't working out in your favor when they inform you that you will have to down 2.... 2..... did i say 2!!!!!! full water bottles of contrast liquid before they can start the scan. Remember, I dragged my PUKING tush into the office, the tush that had been puking for 5 days... "Please, just don't vomit in the trash cans. This stuff is red." At 4:30, be ushered back in for the scan despite my lack of finishing the second bottle of nasty red contrast... only to have two veins blown and an iv put into another in my upper arm. But I will have to say, the 20 minutes or so it took to do the actually scans where the quietest most relaxing minutes I've had in weeks. They even so kindly warmed me all up, as if they had wrapped me up in a heated blanket and stuck me in a hot tub... toes first.

After all of that, realize that you might not make it back to the office next door to the doctor to get your chest x-rays to determine if you have Pneumonia. Did I mention, this is Friday? Rushing again, in after work traffic this time, to get back where we started. Thankfully they were still open, but with no Radiologist on the clock. So the pictures couldn't be read till Monday... and by the way, why did the doctor send you all the way over there for the ct scan? We do scans here. ???? What? You don't say!! Crazy small world, huh... you do CT scans, I needed one, your right next door to the doctor, I was sent across town.... Wish we could have met in the middle. But, since the doctor pushed us apart.. I'll just take my already blown veins and contrast full kidneys and go home.

To wait.

And call mom.

And wait.

And in between that, I think I'll get a little worse.

and wait.

And wait

And explain again to mom

And Wait.

So.... you see... Don't be like me. Schedule your emergencies around Tuesdays. That way, you've got at least 2 days for all the crazy in between doctor crap... but yet you still feel like your accomplishing something. And 2 days for the doctor to get the results to you before you feel completely helpless and vulnerable sitting on the weekend wondering if she really meant a very very strict clear liquids diet or if you can nibble on some damn french fries cause you can't take another freaken spoonful of chicken broth or jello.

I promise you, if you heed this advice... you will save your self a ton of frustration. And jello.