Sick Daze

I always wondered what it would be like to be on bed rest while pregnant. Now I know.

While I'm not technically on bed rest, illness has confined me to the sheets for the last couple days. I've only left twice- once to go to Student Health Services and once to venture out for food. I look terrible, feel terrible, sound terrible.

Two nights ago, I started feeling an annoying little tickle in my throat. I thought nothing of it at the time. I woke up the next morning feeling like I had swallowed a sword. I dragged myself out of bed to go to the doctor wearing my UK t-shirt from the night before and my hair un-brushed. I'll admit, hearing the nurse say, "You look so cute with your belly!" was a welcome distraction from the burning in my throat.

I had to fill out a form explaining my reasons for visiting Student Health Services. It asked me questions about my symptoms and such, which I found trickier to answer than they used to be. "Have you been experiencing any fatigue?" Yes, (but I'm pregnant. I always feel fatigued.) "Does any part of your body hurt?" Yes, (feet, legs, hips, boobs, neck, back. You name it, it hurts.)

My time in the exam room went something like this: "Are you having a boy or a girl? Have you had a fever? Is everything normal with your stomach? Are you taking any medications? Have you thought of a name yet?"

In the end, they couldn't diagnose me with anything specific. My temperature was normal. My blood pressure was within range. My strep test was negative. I went back to Roy's house for a shower thinking it might make me feel a little better. The cricket clinging to the bathroom wall, however, did exactly the opposite. After swatting at it for 10 minutes, I hosed off and crawled back to bed. Hoping to only suffer a 24-hour bug, I went to sleep last night hoping to wake up improved.

Denied. The only difference between yesterday morning and today is that this time, I woke up with a sore throat, a runny nose, a headache, muscle cramps and a lost appetite. Getting out of bed to wash my face and brush my teeth felt like torture. Going to the grocery for food I didn't want to eat was worse.

It used to be that I could get sick and not eat if I didn't feel like it. Hell, I used to get away with being perfectly healthy and not eating. Not any more. Just because I feel like I got hit by a car, baby girl still needs the same care I always give.

So I stayed in bed, took some baby-friendly medicine and watched reruns of "Spartacus: Blood and Sand" on Netflix. Nothing makes me feel better quite like seeing a bunch off gladiators hack at each other in the midst of some delicious Ancient Roman drama.

As awful as I may feel, I'm enjoying having some extra spare time to stare down at my belly while it pops and rolls every time my daughter kicks. You might call it a sick day. I call it quality time.