Oh my blog friends, what a weekend! It was one of those that takes you the rest of the week to recover from. Here’s a recap of our adventures – you’ll see what I mean:
Friday night I surprised Mr. Right with a fabulous First Father’s Day Date to our favorite gourmet restaurant, and showered him with a new car stereo for his 10-year-old car (he needed one badly). It had all the makings to be one of our best nights in a long time, until I took my first bite of dinner and got struck with a tidal wave of nausea (yea for lingering stomach bug at 36 weeks pregnant) and little Miss Wrenn moved into some weird position that had me almost barreled over in pain. Silly girl.
We managed to make it through dinner without me getting physically ill, packed up my almost untouched food and headed home (after a small detour to get some gelato, of course – Mr. Right knows how to cheer a girl up). We ended the night with me in bed, hugging a body pillow trying to coax Baby Girl back to a less painful position, and Mr. Right on the couch with an ice pack in severe pain from his bike injury. It was not the most romantic First Father’s Day, to say the least.
Saturday we headed to the hospital for an all day childbirth/breastfeeding class. After ten hours of learning about the beauty – and horror – of childbirth, and me still feeling nauseous and unable to eat much, we headed home for what we hoped would be a quiet, peaceful night. (note: Breastfeeding is so intimidating! It deserves its own post where I desperately need some advice from you seasoned mamas out there. Stay tuned.)
Instead, an hour later we ended up BACK at the hospital, this time in the ER to have Mr. Right’s bicycle wreck injuries checked out. They had gotten much, much worse, and when we showed our childbirth nurse the bruise on his leg (bruise doesn’t really describe it – it’s like you took purple paint and painted several square feet of his left hip/thigh, from hip bone to knee), even the nurse said we should get it checked out.
(I tried to snag a pic of all three of us in the ER. Sadly this isn’t even Wrenn’s first ER visit.)
I’m not sure if you should be proud when you have an injury so bad that you can actually shock the ER doctor, but we did just that. Every nurse who saw it just gasped. It was THAT bad. Thankfully, we got FAST, wonderful care (I work at a great hospital with some really great people), and Mr. Right’s injuries checked out fine, which means I will sleep much better (because you know I’d been up all night googling his injuries and had been horrified by what I read). Now he’s got some medicine for the pain and should make a full recovery in 6-8 weeks.
In the meantime, if you want to see the gnarliest bruise in the history of the world – call us.
We finally got home at 10:00 p.m. – exhausted, hurting, nauseous, and ready to retreat from the real world for a little while. And we did just that – we spent most of Sunday just resting and recovering emotionally from a stressful week. We did manage to have Mr. Right’s parents over for a wonderfully relaxing Father’s Day dinner (and praise Jesus my nausea was finally gone!), and then Mr. Right and I ended the weekend sitting on our back porch, admiring the pergola he built me and enjoying each other’s company under the twinkle lights.
Finally, we got our romantic evening we’d been hoping for.