a trip to the ER and the end of an era

So things took an unexpected turn shortly after my post last week.  Just before bed I began to have what doctors called Anaphylaxis as a result of an allergy to my antibiotic. Luckily it came on slowly and took me several hours to feel bad enough to call the doctor. In fact I called thinking that my staph infection was getting worse, not that I was starting to experience a life threatening emergency. The on-call doctor insisted that I visit the emergency room immediately and threatened that if I didn't go now on my own I'd most likely be taken there shortly afterward in an ambulance. I promised him I'd go and hung up the phone. Jeff and I then googled the antibiotic I was on and were somewhat shocked to see that my condition really was as bad as the doctor said ... Sorry Doc, it's not that we don't know your smart, it's that we just really wanted to go to bed.


Long story short, if you have to go to the ER, the best way to be seen right away is to list "difficulty breathing" as one of your symptoms. They do not mess around with that symptom. We were being attended to by three nurses and a doctor within four seconds of finishing the registration paperwork. And, happily, we were home within three hours. Of course it's been a long road to full strength and I'm rather shocked to sit here today and say that we've now finished breastfeeding. It's a day I knew was out there but thought was still about six weeks away. I guess maybe only other mom's can understand why it makes me a little sad, but it does. After all the pain, the leaking, the engorgement, the pumping, the hours sat by myself (and Asa) nursing in the dark hours of the night, listening to the party going on from other rooms while I pumped ... I've spent every day since November 2009 asking "Is this safe for the baby", not taking medicines when I was sick so that he wouldn't be exposed to too many chemicals, skipping the tylenol when my head ached, not drinking alcohol at all and then timing my alcohol so that it wouldn't be in the milk I'd be feeding him ... My entire life has revolved around protecting him from second-hand harm and now I'm free.

I can drink caffeine again if I want. I can drink and not worry that I'll get him drunk. But more than that, he doesn't need me anymore like he did. There's no more "I'm the only one can that can do it". I'm not. Anyone can. Anyone can feed him, change him, hold him, play with him, cuddle him, encourage him, dress him, bathe him. Anyone. It's liberating but part of me isn't ready to be liberated. It's been 24 hours and even though I'm relieved that he's no longer gnawing on me with his sharp little teeth, I feel a little lost.

Maybe a vodka redbull will help ease my pain ... It's been almost two years after all!