In all of our marriage (20 years), in all our time that we've had kids (14 years) I have never asked my husband to come home from work to help me out...not even once...
I knew it was bad. It started around 4:50 in the morning. I set off our alarm in our house when I dropped the toilet seat (oh so graceful on my part....then what do you do? Answer the phone so that ADT doesn't think your getting attacked by somebody or do you do throw up in the bathroom...which is why you needed the toilet to begin with...dilemmas, dilemmas...I picked the latter - not like I had much choice).
After everyone was good and awake at 5:00...thanks to me...I finally got everyone ready to go to swimming practice. By the time I went back to pick them up, I was having trouble holding my head up. When the kids got in the car and they smelled of breakfast muffins (apparently one of the coaches had some that they shared with the kids that morning after practice). As they smelled of food and talked about it, all I could think about was please, oh please, don't let me lose it right here in the gym parking lot.
By the time we got home, I was on the phone with my husband. Within 20 minutes he was walking through the door. I love that man. After that, I slept for the next 300 years...or so it seemed like it.
Today...is so much better. I'm vertical today...always good. Besides the feeling that I hurt all over and my stomach feels as though I've been punched in the gut about a thousand times, I see the light at the end of the tunnel. But trust me...it's been the longest 24 hours.