Me and magnesium sulfate? We are not friends. Now, we used to *really* hate each other. Take last March; we pretty much went balls out in a 20-hour fight to the death. The mag dripped furiously into my veins non-stop leaving me nauseous, weak, and woozy. I couldn't keep anything in my stomach and could barely peel myself out of bed. Admittedly, that bastard had the upper hand that time; but in my defense, I was a little incapacitated due to the fact that I was basically *having a baby*.
This time, things are different. We still aren't friendly by any means. That vindictive bitch still holds a bit of a grudge. How can I put this? Have you have ever run 26.2 miles then stayed up all night to study for an exam, all while fighting off moderate flu-like symptoms? Me neither (at least, not all at once). But, that's about we're we stand at present. Still, I haven't tossed my cookies and am perfectly capable of walking all the way across the room unaided, so I think I can safely say I'm holding my own this round.
Meanwhile, the doctors are forcing us to work out our differences and we will be constant companions until sometime 'early next week' (do those guys like to keep it vague or what?). Will we become friends? Will we work out our differences and develop some sort of truce?
Well, as it turns out neither one if us is particularly fond of those damn pre-term labor contractions. So maybe we join our forces of hatred together--you know, junior high girl style--and start picking on those bitches as a unified front.
So far, it seems to be working.
Maybe I *will* be inviting Magnesium to my birthday party.