When my son and I finally got home from the hospital, I thought we were in the clear. I had a nasty case of mastitis, but I went to the doc, got some medicine, and it cleared up, no problem. Recovering from pregnancy was tough, but I figured it would take a while for the aches and pains to go away.
Then, right around the time my son turned 4-months-old, one day at work, I got this bad pain in my abdomen while I was standing at the register. It kept getting worse, until I was just about doubled over, but I figured it was just a stomach bug, maybe food poisoning. But I tried to use the restroom, and nada. I was off the next day, so I just stuck it out for the rest of my shift.
I spent most of the next day in bed, only getting up to take care of my son. (Fortunately, 4-month-olds are relatively low-maintenance.) Around 2:00 that afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to give my son the attention he needed. So I did something for the first time ever in my life.
I called my husband at work, and asked him to come home and take me to the hospital.
