Despite all my whining these past eight months or so, pregnancy hasn't been all that bad. As far as growing a human goes, my experience has been pretty misery-free compared to some people I've talked to. But today, I feel differently. Today I have a cold and I am pretty sure my entire world is ending.
Yes, I AM a big baby, thank you for asking.
I'm usually one of those "I'll tough it out" types. Besides the occassional Tylenol, I haven't taken a single drug since I've been pregnant. I'm kind of that way when I'm not pregnant too, following dosage labels to the letter and begging my husband to stop swigging cough medicine from the bottle and use the LITTLE CUP IT CAME WITH, damnit!
But today, today I would throw all of my caution to the wind and mix every single cold medicine I could legally get my hands on, if I didn't have to worry about one little thing (er, person).
To be responsible, I called my doctor and asked what medications I could take, being in my third trimester and all. The woman on the phone recommended Tylenol (duh), Robatussin, Claratin or Benadryl. DONE! I raced to the pharmacy and bought all of them and dragged my loot home, coughing, wheezing and chortling like some demented drug pirate. I drank some Robatussin, took a Benadryl and immediately conked out -- that great kind of drug-induced sleep where you wake up not knowing where you are and wiping a good amount of drool off your cheek.
I wandered into the kitchen to decide what lovely drug cocktail I could cook up next, when my Mom (who is visiting) and Ben showed up. We got to talking about what my doctor (or rather, her receptionist) recommended and a little voice started nagging at me to be VERY careful about what I'm taking. I told the voice to shut up or I would take it out back and beat it, but it got the best of me and I sat down to do a little Web research before I took anything else.
Googled Claratin first and got to reading the drug information. Well, what do you know but they suggest that people be ESPECIALLY wary of taking the drug in their THIRD trimester. Apparently my doctor's office let Mrs. Potato Head answer the phone today and she just spouted out some random drugs when I talked to her. I'm suprised I actually got medicine names and not just random words like "Jungle! Toothbrush! Hickey!! San Salvador!!!"
I found a good article on WebMD that listed safe medications to take, and the two I had actually taken already were fine, Whew. At this point, I decided that I was done branching out and Benadryl and Robatussin were the only drugs I'd dare take. And, as I sit here with a Kleenex stuffed up my nose, I'm cursing both of them for their great ineffectiveness.
I'm also fairly certain I'm going to be the parent that reminds their children of everything they went through to bring them into the world. Because as I focus on how miserable I am, I'm already practicing the speech in my head that my (likely teenage) daughter will hear someday.
"Not ONLY did I get way fat and find out my real hair color is BROWN, but I carried you for NINE WHOLE MONTHS and then went through pain and agony to get you out into the world. But you know the WORST part? One day, I used an entire BOX of Kleenex because I felt like my brains were melting and draining out of my skull, and my throat hurt and I kept coughing up stuff that should never see the light of day and you kept KICKING me, like you had no CLUE how miserable I was and I HAD TO DEAL WITH IT practically drug-free. Like no hard core stuff, just so you could be all perfect and non-birth defect-y. But do you APPRECIATE my sacrifice?!!? DO YOU?????"
(In my head, this is the point my voice gets all screechy and hard to understand and my daughter will roll her eyes, call me weird and slam the door behind her on her way out. It's only fair -- ask my Mom about our relationship during my teen years.)
Now you'll have to excuse me. I need a nap and a new box of Kleenex.