In Which I Ignore Things I Shouldn't and Suffer Dearly

While pregnant with Andrew, I began having pre-term contractions around 30 weeks.  I went to the ER once and the doctor told me to take it easy, so I did, kinda, and continued to have those contractions until Andrew came at 36 weeks.  Since he and Emily were so close together, 14 months, I figured it was because my body had not adequately returned to my normal pre-pregnancy state and that future pregnancies would not be threatened by that.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.  Despite having the easiest and most wonderful pregnancy since 20 weeks (and the last of the HG went away), pre-term labor has reared is ugly, and painful, little head again.

Last week, I started feeling contractions again.  At first I thought it was pressure related to Bellybean shifting his/her weight, except that it happened periodically and required that I deep breathe through it to make it bearable.  It took a few days to convince myself that these were, indeed, contractions and that I should pay closer attention to them.  After having over a dozen every day for a week straight and feeling pelvic pressure, I decided to mention it to my doctor.   Surely it wasn’t anything to worry about, just run o’ the mill Braxton Hicks contractions. At my doctor’s appointment, I mentioned this and since I did have a history of delivering early, she decided to check me to make sure the contractions were not dilating my cervix.

They were.  I was already dilated to 1 cm and 50% effaced.  Since I am only 31 weeks, this is too much.  I was prescribed medication to stop the contractions and ordered to “rest as much as you can.”

Eh.  As I tend to do, I flippantly took this information and I convinced myself that it was not that big of a deal.  Ben kept telling me to fill my prescription and take it easy, but I told him that Andrew stayed in until 36 weeks and the doctors weren’t too concerned at that time!  I would fill the prescription…eventually.  I did slow down, a little, but my kiddos don’t like resting any more than I do.  They need to run outside and need to have my one-on-one attention so they don’t destroy the house and get into dangerous substances.

Last night, after a day that was relatively relaxing – but followed a day that was NOT – I started contracting heavily.  This time, I felt major pelvic pressure, intense cramping, and could barely move or talk over the contractions.  I called my doctor who told me to make a trip to labor and delivery immediately.

At L&D, they hooked me up to various monitors (standard stuff) and measured my contractions.  They were coming steadily and they could tell that I was in a great deal of pain.  They gave me a shot, checked my cervix – which, thankfully, hadn’t changed since Friday – and sent me home on orders of strict bed rest and to take my medicine.

Bed rest is complicated and even more so with kids.  However, I know how difficult having a premature baby is and I want to stop that from happening.  If I could convince myself that this is a big deal, and that I’m not making things up in my head, then maybe I’ll start taking the whole rest thing seriously.

Memories Captured, Thanks Technology!

After my fifth (or was it seventh?) phone crashed in 2 years, I convinced my husband that it's time I upgrade.  Like that, I had a high-tech smart phone with all the cool things it offered: apps for everything - maps, Facebook, Blogger, e-mail - and a camera.  A nice camera.  Better than my point and shoot camera, in fact.



So, after a long hiatus from picture taking, I started capturing little memories.  Andrew's grumpy faces, Emily's mischievous doings, Emily and Andrew playing and laughing together and Ben sitting with his kids.  With Picasa and Instagram suddenly available from my phone, I've taken more photos in a few months than I have in the last year and I've enjoyed taking these pictures.



With my weird personality quirks, it's simple things - like a smartphone - that enable me to engage with my kids and actively capture our moments together. It's what helps keep me alive and going, especially as I balance school and family and pregnancy (yes, an entity all its own).



While my privileged state is clearly shown through this post, I don't care.  I am glad for technology and extremely grateful for my smartphone.

{Five for Five Day Three: Pictures. Join in!}

The Ultrasound. It's A.....

I love school, with only a few exceptions.  It has taken over my life! I am working really hard  on finding some balance, but it's a constant battle.  I figure with all the papers I'm writing (at least a 5 pager a week) (which is only difficult as I have to research academic stuff) (and that can be boring), I shall soon become an expert writer.  And maybe, just maybe, will use these skills to write a memoir.  Or continue into a doctorate program and focus on research stuff.  I won't tell you which one I favor as my geek will totally come through and, for my kids' sake, I'm trying to "cool" myself up.

Um, yeah.

In other news, I'm over 20 weeks (22.2 exactly) and will finally have my ultrasound (moving, changing doctors, and insurance stuff really delayed the process) today.  The question that is on everyone's mind is, what will I have?  A boy? A girl? Twins? (Haha, it's one baby BUT IT'S POSSIBLE.)

However, I am taking the crazy route and not finding out.

That's right, folks.  This baby will be the first in our family to not have a gender until birth!  Er...rather, for us not to know the gender.

With our first two, it was imperative that I find out.  Seriously.  I would lay awake at night wondering who inhabited my body.  Now, I want to be surprised.  This will be the last pregnancy and I want it to be as special as both Emily's and Andrew's were and there is no real urgency in finding out the sex now.  I mean, even when I did know Andrew's sex I still didn't buy clothes until after he was born (although, in my defense, that's because he came a leeeetle bit early).

And that's it: School, baby, two other kids, craziness.

How Not to Survive (Under)Graduate School

I am three weeks into my program and wondering, what the hell was I thinking?  To make it easier for me and my fellow (under)graduate students, I've composed a list of 10 ways to ensure one doesn't survive school.

1. Have kids.  Lots of 'em. And, if possible, make sure you're pregnant WITH kids.

2. Start out poor.  Extra stress from financial burdens is extremely important to (non)success.

3. Stay home full-time with your kids, finding baby-sitters *only* when you have class.  This way you and your children will experience (under)graduate school together!

4. Move FAR away from family.  When you need help with little things, like an emergency baby-sitter, you will learn patience by taking your kids with you to appointments and classes!

5. Include your partner/spouse in the school/life/mother/spouse balance by sending them away for a few weeks.  You'll never appreciate them more than when they are gone and return.

6. Ensure that you live on the third floor of an apartment complex without a washer and dryer.  This will make you appreciate your ancestors as you lug your kids (who refuse to walk), the laundry, the laundry supplies, and your pregnant body up and down the stairs to the laundromat.

7. Live in a *small* apartment.  Nothing like enclosed spaces to improve familial relationships!

8. If you have a mental illness, don't take your medicine - for physical or whatever reasons - to improve your chances at (non)success.

9. Ensure that your toddler and preschooler are sufficiently independent and busy enough to cause all types of chaos while you attempt to work on a paper.

10. Don't sleep.  Blame it on pregnancy-induced insomnia, anxiety-induced insomnia, or just insomnia in general.  That way, by the end of the week, you are hysterical with overwhelming stress and exhaustion.  A perfect recipe for (non)success.

If you can, try to combine one or more of these and I promise you the (under)graduate experience of your life!

 

Pathetic

Friends, I can eat again!  And, more than that, I actually like eating!!!! I am also free to move about.  Except, well, things have changed.

Take a few nights ago.  A good friend had us over for pizza and afterwards we played a few games on the Wii.  After watching my husband battle it out with my friend's husband, I decided to give tennis a try.  Just one match; easy as eating pie (a favorite pastime of mine).

The next day, I couldn't move my arm.  Seriously, who gets sore from playing the Wii? Or from walking down the street?  And, who huffs and puffs when they walk up two stairs?  Holy Moses, what has happened to my fit body?

Ah, I didn't move for 10 weeks.  I guess I lost more than weight, I lost all my muscle tone.

Luckily, I can build that up, along with my old personality.  It feels great to smile, laugh and joke with my husband again.  Not to mention spending time with my kids.  I have missed them tremendously!

Now that my previous self is returning, I think I'll go run a marathon!  Or watch one on TV while eating apple pie and ice cream.  Hey, I've got a hungry, growing baby to consider.

Starting the Second Trimester Right With an ER Visit

I feel pretty competent when it comes to advocating for my own health. I will stand up for what I think is right and argue when I disagree.  Yet, with this pregnancy, I have been far too tired and sick to argue and have allowed my physician to take the lead.  Not a good idea.

Despite taking anti-emetic medication (anti-nausea/vomiting) regularly every 6 hours, I have still only consumed around 1000 calories a day, on a good day, for this whole pregnancy.  I cannot take prenatal vitamins, anti-depressant/anxiety medications, or anything else except my Zofran.  I constantly feel malnourished, fatigued, and without energy.  But I felt that because my doctor indicated that I was maintaining my weight, I was not nearly as sick as I originally thought.  Wrong.  Regardless of my weight gain/loss (or keeping a steady weight), I was still throwing up 2-5 times a day, on medication, which is not healthy.

Last week, I started down a very sick road.  I thought maybe it was something I ate or maybe I hadn't taken my medication regularly enough.  None of these was the case.  My body was reacting to the beta hCG levels and sending messages, through the brain, telling my body to kick up the nausea and vomiting.  So I went 5 days of keeping maybe 1 cup of liquid down and thinking, "well, it's not that bad because...." and coming up with various reasons, all silly, why I shouldn't go to the ER or call my doctor.  It took my husband coming into the room and saying "you look like you are on your deathbed" for me to finally agree to an ER visit.

The doctor there quickly ordered 2 bags of fluids and assured me they would help me in whatever way they could.  After a quick ultrasound, in which we saw our cute baby who is looking less like a monster every day (and more like a bird), the doctor came in and talked with me.  He said, "come in whenever you need to be topped off with liquids. You are clearly sick and regardless of your weight loss/gain, we need to keep you healthy and on the right track."  It made me feel 1 million times better in my decision.

With the doctor's supportive comments, I feel more comfortable in defending my original assertion that regular IV treatment for my HG was, and is, the best course.  So, unless I feel significantly better in the next day or so, I am planning on making weekly trips to the ER* and making improvements to my current condition.  I feel silly that I needed a doctor's blessing to make this decision, but I guess that even the most assertive women question themselves and get tired of fighting some times.

*I am really missing UT these days.  The town I lived in had infusion services and I only needed my doctor to call in a prescription for me.  I was lucky that my doctor there was very well versed in HG and didn't argue with me when I requested it.  Unfortunately, in this small town, there is no infusion services building so I have to go to the ER for fluids.  Blech.

When Darkness Prevails

I've mentioned before how the severe sickness of this pregnancy has often left me wanting a miscarriage and even considering abortion (actually, I might not have mentioned that).  Even when things finally started getting better, and I could move around a little bit more, I have had moments of despair and bitterness.

"What's the point," I've said to my husband.  "It will probably end soon and I will have given up food, drink, and many other things for no reason."

Before you criticize me for thinking negative thoughts, you must understand one thing.  I not only have been horribly sick and unable to parent, work, or do anything productive, I haven't been able to take my anti-depressant and anti-anxiety medications for various reasons (too sick to keep it down, interacts with my anti-nausea medication, etc).  Since pregnancy can increase mental illness symptoms, not being able to take my medication has been a struggle.  I've had symptoms that I haven't felt in over a year! From disturbing thoughts and dreams to thoughts and wishes of suicide and/or abortion, I feel like time has stopped and I will be stuck forever in this first trimester hell.

It's not easy to write or acknowledge these dark moments in my life.  I would much rather hide them under a rock.  But I know that by admitting this, my group of friends and supporters increases greatly. You know the idea that when you publicly make a goal, you have some sort of accountability? It's kind of like that;  see, it's harder to do something rash when I know there are people out there thinking good thoughts and praying to their version of God that everything will turn out okay with this pregnancy.

There have been moments that I've let darkness prevail and I can't pretend that it won't happen again.  In fact, I'm not even going to end this with something like "I felt bad then but now I have hope, etc etc!"  I am acknowledging that this has been a severe struggle for me.  The HG, the previous miscarriages, and mental illness have really knocked me down.    I am irritated with my kids, with my husband, and have practically eliminated contact with the outside world (except Facebook and this blog).

Don't take this as a cry for help, take it as me reaching out for hope.  If you have some, would you mind sharing?  And maybe, just maybe, I will make it through this last stretch of pregnancy-induced sickness and return to a semi-normal state.

P.S. As soon as I can stop taking this anti-nausea medication, I can start taking my medications again.  It's unfortunate that I must choose between throwing up and medication, but that's the beauty of hyperemesis gravidarum. I can't wait to tell HG to eff off, if you know what I'm saying.

I've Lost My Personality

I wrote this at the beginning of the week when I was feeling overwhelmed by everything. Luckily, my new medication is helping tremendously and I feel much more optimistic now. I wasn't sure if I would publish it, however, it is important for people to understand HG and how it affects pregnant women.

This morning, I went to the doctor for a check-up.  While we were talking about my constant sickness, I said, "Doctor, I'm done with this pregnancy."  He laughed and jokingly said, "well, I'll have to send you to a different clinic because I don't handle patients who are done this early."  (Before you make any incendiary comments on his behaviour, this is how  our patient/doctor relationship is:  I say something sassy and he responds with sass.  It's pretty awesome.)

Once upon at time, before nausea and vomiting took over my life, I would have laughed with him and said something witty back.  Instead, my eyes filled with tears as I explained that I am tired of constantly feeling sick because I really want to enjoy this pregnancy.  He looked at me, compassionately, and said, "I bet. I can only imagine what it must be like.  Hopefully this new medication will work and maybe in a couple weeks you'll feel better."

I hope so too.

My husband and I used to have a relationship in which we could, appropriately, make fun of each other.  Now, I cry. A lot. I don't get or appreciate his jokes and he feels frustrated that we can't have fun anymore.  I understand.

What has happened to me?

I'll tell you: hyperemesis gravidarum.  I would blame pregnancy as a whole, but when I'm feeling good my sass returns (100 fold).

Right now, all I can think about is when/if I can drink water again (because soda turns into a disgusting enemy when it's all I can drink) or actually eat a decent meal.  Pregnancy with HG is not the joyful, it's a physical drag.  It takes all the zing out of life because I can't enjoy anything.  Even with medication, things are awful.

HG Without Medicine
-Throw up every 10-30 minutes
-Lose 5+ pounds in one week
-Can't move off the couch without beginning the vicious vomiting cycle and/or passing out
-Must avoid all smells (including my husband's cooking, which means that he can't cook anything unless I'm away from the house)
-Can't go anywhere outside the house because I risk vomiting and passing out in public places
-Can't hold my little babies or hug my husband

HG With Medicine (specifically Zofran)
-Throw up 1-3 times a day
-Still feel incredibly nauseated
-Maintain a steady weight
-Can eat and drink in small amounts as long as I lay down immediately after
-Still can't stand up for very long as I risk passing out and vomiting (so I am still stuck in bed or on the couch)
-Have to suck on Lifesavers (properly named) to keep the nausea at bay
-Must take consistently every 6-8 hours or my condition declines rapidly

I understand why women who experience HG choose abortion because it's more than feeling awful, it's debilitating.  From medications to hospital visits, it feels overwhelmingly horrible.  There are moments, like I've mentioned, that I wish I weren't pregnant and/or that I were dead.  At least then the sickness would disappear!

I try to remember that it will end eventually and that I will have that nice pregnancy I always dreamed of.

I don't know how many times I've heard from various women that they would have preferred the puking over gaining 50 lbs while pregnant.  Not to disqualify what they are saying, but you don't.  You really don't.  Just imagine how awful you feel when sick (at your most sick) and extend that to 3-5 months.  I would gladly gain 50 lbs over losing 5-15 because I can't keep anything down.  Anything that would make this pregnancy more normal would be amazing.

But, more than anything, I would like to feel happy again.  I want the tears to stop constantly flowing as I lay miserably on the couch or bed unable to spend time with my family.  I want to laugh and joke and return to my sarcastic self.  I want to brush my teeth without puking!!

Surely this won't last forever.

*****

Most of you wonderful readers know my propensity of turning a trial into a possible research possibility; thus, it shouldn't surprise you that I will be working hyperemesis gravidarum into my master's thesis.  I will work out the specifics over the next few months and am thrilled to start work on this project.  (For current research look at the HelpHER website, a fantastic academic source for hypermesis gravidarum.)

Adieu

For those who have read my blog long enough, you know that I've always dreamed of having a large family.  As in six kids.  I have no religious basis the these longings, just that  I love children and want to be surrounded by them.

This past year, after the third miscarriage, I was forced to re-evaluate my plans.  Was wanting another child worth the emotional and physical strain of one, two, or four more miscarriages?  I wasn't sure.  Ben and I agreed that one more try would surely mean a successful pregnancy.  We were wrong.  If I hadn't become unexpectedly pregnant two short weeks after that fourth miscarriage, I am not sure if we would have tried again.

With this pregnancy, the hyperemesis gravidarum started early.  It reached a point, sometime around 7 weeks, where I even cried (out of sickness) that I hoped to miscarry.  (A very common desire for those who experience severe pregnancy-induced sickness.)  What ensued was constant bed rest, continued vomiting, horrible headaches, and reliance  on anti-emetic medications.

After seeing my miserable condition repeated day after day, Ben tentatively asked me if I could endure this again.  I didn't answer him immediately; I think it was about a week later that he repeated the question.  This time, I had an answer: no.  I couldn't do this again.

I don't need to explain my reasoning to anyone.  I write today to remind my future self why I, we, made this decision.

Miscarriage 

When I consider trying for another baby, it isn't an exciting venture.  Instead, I have intense anxiety as I wonder whether the pregnancy would stick or whether I would undergo another miscarriage.  For those who have had one miscarriage, you can understand the deep sadness and anger that comes from losing your baby.  Now multiply that, because the more miscarriages you have the more sadness and anger you feel.  It takes all the excitement out of baby making and turns it into a stressful and angst-ridden venture.  (I imagine my friends who have experienced infertility can relate to this.)

So I have to ask myself, is it worth it?  Sure, if I welcome a baby it is, but if I have bleeding, cramping, and a possible D&C, than it's not.  The emotional side effects of a miscarriage are so complicated and ambiguous that it takes me months to recover and even longer to not sob every time I think of the lost baby.

HG

If the miscarriages weren't enough, once a pregnancy sticks, I must contend with 24/7 HG.  Not only do I throw up constantly, but movements, sounds, smells, colors, and sensations (like feeling my pants against my tummy) add to the nausea and increase my vomiting.  The medicine I take to limit the vomiting has its own side effects: dizziness, migraines, continued nausea, and exhaustion (just to name a few).

I am on bed rest.  I can't take care of my children, help my husband, go to the store, or do anything by myself.  I can't even snuggle with my kids or husband.  Taking a shower involves having my husband sit on the toilet just in case I pass out.  Brushing my teeth induces vomiting.  I can't sleep, can't eat, and can't drink.  It's tiring, frustrating, and not a pregnancy experience I can handle again.

Risky Business

To top it all, there is fear.  Even now, with everything going 100% the way it should, there is that small possibility that I can still miscarry.  Pregnancy is a risk, all women know this. That risk increases if you've had previous problems.

I am positive, exceedingly positive.  I am also realistic.  I don't dwell on what could happen I just acknowledge that risk exists.  There are days when fear overtakes reason and I must cope with that.  From experience I have learned that you can't ignore fear because it only makes it bigger, so I must face it and show it that I am boss.  Each showdown is draining and leaves me emotionally vulnerable. Frankly, I'm tired.  I want to enjoy life; living with fear (even WHEN you are positive and happy) makes this hard.

The Decision

As most of you know, I don't make decisions on a whim:  I analyze; I weigh my options; I write lists of pros and cons; and, mostly, I self-evaluate.  After considering my experiences, my current condition, and my emotional state, I recognized that this decision isn't just about me.  It's about the family.  And my family cannot afford another miscarriage (or slew of miscarriages) nor can I ask them to sacrifice while I have another difficult pregnancy.  I know that we are strong and willing to support each other, but I am not sure if I could emotionally handle 4 more miscarriages and a pregnancy with severe HG.  Frankly, I'm not going to ask my family or myself to repeat these last 2 years.  We have each other, we have another baby on the way, and we are lucky.

It's Not Over

With the decision made, I can now really enjoy this pregnancy (as much as I can right now) and remind myself and my husband that things will get better.

I also know that there are other options.  My time as a mother hasn't ended.  I have my two beautiful kids, another on the way, and the possibility of other children--though not birthed by me--to raise.  If I can convince my husband to complete the STARS classes with me, then we could eventually start fostering and might one day add to our family through adoption.  There are also kids overseas who need a family.  The point is, there are endless possibilities.  While I am ultimately saying (and some might argue prematurely to which I say "go to hell") good-bye to future pregnancies I am not barring the door to the future.

Whew.  That was tough. Now I am going to eat chips and suck on Life Savers while crying copious amounts of tears because this has been an emotional,  albeit necessary, post to write. To my future self: don't worry, you made the right decision.

Why I Don't Look to the Future

I am ten weeks today and crying that we've made it this far.

When I wake up and remember that I'm still pregnant, I feel my heart jumping for joy.  I would join in if I weren't laid up with HG.  And if I weren't struggling with incontinence.

I have had several questions regarding this pregnancy: how I want to do this birth, if we are going to find out the gender, etc.  Honestly, I don't think about those things.  I am enjoying living day-to-day while not worrying about the future.  The future will happen; but this day-to-day stuff can't be repeated.  Even if the routine includes bed rest, weight loss, incessant nausea, and medicine taken frequently to limit the vomiting.

Even though I had to quit my job, I've spent more quality time with the kids than I have in a while.  With things changing--from pregnancy to ideology--I am finding more value in the extra time I have with Emily and Andrew.

When I quit my job, I didn't feel sadness.  It's not that I didn't like working, it's that quitting felt right.

See, the truth is, this will be my last pregnancy.  When the HG started, I felt relieved in knowing that I would need to quit.  It meant more time to enjoy the pregnancy, my babies, and figure out what I want with my future.  (Also, I will be starting my Master's program in a couple of months. This would've been doable with full-time employment had I not been pregnant.) This is a special time that I can actually slow down and I feel lucky for this opportunity.

I don't know what the future holds but I do know that I am enjoying the present.

The Five Senses of Pregnancy-Induced Sickness

Women who suffer from hyperemesis gravidarum (hg) vary in the intensity with which they feel it and how it afflicts their body.  Therefore, I am going to explain how it affects me.

Hearing

When it comes to sound, loud noises generally increase my nausea.  Along with that, certain sounds (that I can only identify when I hear it) induce vomiting.  This goes for specific songs.  For example, when pregnant with Emily, Ben would listen to Tears for Fears.  After a week or so of playing their songs constantly, I could no longer listen to them without waves of nausea hitting me.  With this pregnancy, the intro to Arrested Development, a show I have come to adore, does the same thing.  Clearly, it doesn't matter whether I enjoy something or not; sounds are not pleasant to my ears.

Sight

Cartoons, bright colors, and even snow leaves me feeling horribly ill.  As with hearing, there are certain shows that, when watching, will cause nausea: football, Arrested Development, and most of the kids' shows.

Touch

I'm a cuddly person.  I adore holding my kids and snuggling with my husband.  When pregnant, this is not the case.  Do not hug, touch, or even come near me as I might run to the bathroom.

Smell

Most pregnant women experience a slight increase in their nasal awareness.  For me, this change is extreme.  Take the smell of my husband.  I adore Ben.  But, right now, I like him more when he is sitting across the room from me.  I can't explain what it is about his scent that has me puking into my bowl, but it does and I find it extremely aggravating.

Taste

Food is tricky.  There are times when I crave things like spaghetti.  However, when I eat it, it's like I've been poisoned.  This makes eating more than a chore, it becomes painful and frustrating.  Around 6 weeks, all I wanted were wraps made at our local grocery store.  After 3-4 days, I couldn't stand the smell of them.  The same goes for fries and milk shakes.  For about a week, those were like manna to my tummy. I guess that since I've thrown it up more than I can count, I'd rather go hungry than force myself to choke it down.  In some ways, it feels unfair that I wake to my stomach grumbling and my mouth dry because anything I eat and/or drink comes up like 10 minutes later.   But, that's how it is.

Naturally, when people find out the extremity of my pregnancy-induced sickness, they offer all sorts of remedies: ginger, Zofran, chicken noodle soup, etc.  These things work great when nausea is not associated with hg.  But, for me, they make things worse by increasing nausea and/or vomiting or have side affects that leave me suffering from other ails.

In one website that attempts to inform the public of what hg is, they encourage people to think of their worst bout of the stomach flu or, if they had it, food poisoning.  Consider how it would feel if you had it 24/7, 7 days a week. That's how it is for me and other women who have hg.  And, depending on how this pregnancy goes, I could suffer through it the whole time. It didn't end until I was 30 weeks along with Emily and I can only guess how things will go with this pregnancy.

As frustrating as the constant vomiting and nausea are, I do feel glad that I am pregnant again and that this pregnancy is going so well.  (A strange thing to say considering the sickness, but that indicates a viable pregnancy in my case.)  All I ask is that I am allowed to complain when things become overwhelming.

Post-Vacation Stress

I am thrilled to start work again tomorrow.  I really like my job and have quite a few exciting tasks to accomplish within the next month.

I am, however, worried about one thing: how will I handle my pregnancy-induced sickness while at work?

(I do not like the term morning sickness.  It does not adequately describe my--and many a woman's--plight during these long months, with illness that lasts from sun-up until sun-up, 7 days a week.  Thus, I use the term pregnancy-induced sickness, a better description in my opinion.)

I worked/went to school when pregnant with both Andrew and Emily; I am not unaware of the difficulties.  However, going to school is significantly different from working a traditional 40 hr/week job.  At least in between (and during) classes I could run to the bathroom for my puke-fest.  And with my many visits to the ER, I could realistically sleep a bit the next day before resuming homework.  With my job, however, I am in an office/classroom and have little flexibility with my hours.

At the same time, I really REALLY like my job.  I wouldn't be working there if I didn't.  I am passionate about Head Start and its initiative.  I have seen the good it does in our community, and many other communities, and find my personal and career goals intersecting with my compassionate nature to produce a positive work experience.

Yet my trepidation is valid.  What if my dizziness turns into fainting spells?  What if I must start IV therapy?  Naturally, the only way to know is by trying and I have no desire to quit.  I figure I can push through this just like I did with my schooling.  What doesn't kill me makes me stronger, right?  And, besides, there are families and children that need my skills and empathy.  So, hyperemesis gravidarum be damned, I will continue working.

Now would it be unprofessional to bring my puke bowl? We do have only one staff bathroom and one never knows when sickness might hit.

Have any of you mothers worked through pregnancy-induced sickness?  If you did, how did you make it work? (Working includes staying home with your kids. As it always should.)

Why Blogs Need a "Like" Button and Other Completely (Un)Related Thoughts

Since I am horrible, no good, blogger, I am terrible at responding to comments.  I read all of them, and usually compose the best responses, but writing them out seems impossible. Especially with my many distractions--admissions essay, work, Facebook, kids, and my husband.

What I need is a "like" button for comments, then all of you will KNOW I read them, even if I couldn't respond.

*****

Recently, "i think i am the craziest person on the planet" search landed a person on my blog.  I hope they learned the truth that I am sole owner of that title.  Don't you dare take it away from me.

I had other awesome search terms and carefully placed them in categories for you.

You Landed In the Right Place

"Make my husband last sarcastic" (Sorry lady/man, I can only help him become MORE sarcastic)

"sarcastic people have more illnesses" (Clearly)

"parenting fail" (after fail, after fail...)

"menu to gain 20 pounds in one month" (Hello! Birth control!)

"tired of being a mother" (I get it.)

Ummmm....

"how do you install the oh birth control" (read the instructions!)

"real gay moments" (not sure if you'll find what you're looking for here)

"making pee" (BECOME PREGNANT!!)

"gay love making" (no words)

Say it with me, "AWWWW!"

"support my husband for his medical school interview"

"closer i get to you 2011"

"blog post supporting duggar family miscarriage"

"little girl sweet kisses" (I'm going to assume this was innocent)

*****

In lieu of boring you with updates on this pregnancy, I am using Facebook.  If you don't have Facebook, and want boring updates, let me know and I will start an e-mail thingy.

*****

We celebrated Solstice this year with a candle light dinner and toasts to celebrate light starting to increase daily.  It was awesome.

*****

Emily thinks the Muppets on Sesame Street have penis noses.  What do you say to that?  She also told the nurse on our last visit that "Mommy is getting a baby today!" Sorry to disappoint you, girly, but it's going to take longer than 5 weeks for that to happen.

*****

Happy holidays to all of you! I hope you eat as much food as you want and think of me while doing so.  You can bet I would be glaring in your direction as you masticate on all those delicious entrées and desserts while I sit with my puke bowl in my lap and munch on Saltines in the hope that I won't vomit.

Living In the Moment

It is 5 AM and I have been awake since 3.  Partially due to increasing nausea and my new obsession with this pregnancy, and partially due to excitement as I consider the future.  I have so much to look forward to!

• Starting a master's degree program (if I get accepted)


• Receiving my Zumba instructor certification


• Mothering my 2 (maybe 3!) beautiful children


• Loving on my incredibly sexy husband

As I look at my growing belly (that isn't actually growing, it has just remained pregnant-like since my last miscarriage and when I gained that 20 lbs from birth control), I think of my two healthy children sleeping upstairs.  The trials, the successes, the sadness, the joy, it's all part of this parenting ride.  While there are moments when I want to pull my hair out, I am learning that many of these come from my own insecurities and fears.  The more I discover about myself--my strengths and weaknesses--the more content I feel when it comes to the many roles I play.

I still have much to improve on but I feel excited as I consider the many possibilities that positive change brings.

And so I am happy to announce that I am heeding all your advice and thinking of this pregnancy as a day by day experience.  I will probably have many pokes and probes in the future, all of which determining how the pregnancy is continuing, and I am realizing there is no need in worrying over every little thing.  That's my doctor's job.  Instead, I will be joyful for the experience I have gained and intent on putting it to good use, whatever the outcome.

Impatiently Waiting

Sometimes I wish I could rid myself of worry.  I know that worrying is unproductive and even harmful to my pregnancy.  As my doctor said, "if you convince yourself something is impending, it will certainly happen."  So I am trying to take this day by day and celebrate little things: 1) sickness; 2) back, hip, and breast pain; and 3) exhaustion.

[I realize celebrating these things might sound silly, and completely contrary to how most pregnant women feel, but I might as well see these as good indicators rather than frustrating aspects of growing a fetus.]

However, my memories recall feeling sickness and pain and exhaustion and things not continuing like I hoped.  Even worse, the sickness did not increase like it did with Emily and Andrew, my only healthy pregnancies, and so I worry about NOT feeling sick or the sickness not getting worse.

It's this constant game of telling myself to breathe and think optimistically while holding on to that fear and having the anxiety settle within my stomach.  Deep inside, I want to fast forward 20 weeks where I could feel relatively safe.  Yet I know that is impossible and that I should enjoy the next unfolding weeks.

How can I be so patient with my kids yet so impatient with this pregnancy and myself?

Writing is my only release as tension builds up.  How can I convince my head things will be all right?  I WANT to feel that.   Somewhere in my heart I think it, I'm just having trouble convincing my mind.  And, by golly, even if it doesn't, I want to make this a terrific ride.

Will you help me?  I challenge you to throw all the positive thinking you can my way.

Ready, set, GO!

I'm Speechless

In walked the doctor, with his clipboard full of test results from the blood they had drawn two weeks earlier.  I sat on the examination table, with Ben across from me, waiting to hear what the doctor had found and still unsure of what I might do with the information.

Doctor: "Well your lab results came back with some interesting information: You're pregnant."

Me: [Eyes wide, breathing rapid, surprise written all over my body.] "You're kidding, right? And will you please repeat what you just said?"

Doctor: "No, I'm serious.  The nurse did the test like you requested and two lines quickly appeared."

Me: "Uh." [Lots of nervous laughter.]

Cue the sarcastic side.

Me: Well thanks for ruining my day.

*****

When I wrote about worry, I was referring to test results from the blood they had drawn at the [above] appointment, measuring my hCG levels and Progesterone.  I wasn't expecting any phone calls until Thursday, after they had drawn more blood to see if the hCG was doubling and that the Progesterone was increasing.

The news came back yesterday very positive, my initial levels were around 156, which indicated pregnancy.   After the second draw, my levels increased to 333 and the Progesterone rose to 16.5.

So, I guess I'm pregnant.  Again.

*****

Because I haven't had a period post-miscarriage, I have no idea how far along I am.  With a very narrow time frame for when I could have gotten pregnant, I am pretty sure it happened sometime within the last two weeks.  Since there is no certainty of when I ovulated, I, and the doctor, must rely on hCG levels to determine everything, and based on those results I am around 2 weeks.  Holy shoot.

While it might seem surprising that I am sharing this news so early, I have nothing to lose (no pun intended).  This pregnancy will either stick or it won't.  I have gone through 4 miscarriages and know the drill, I know what my chances are and what most results mean when they come in.

However, I am feeling more optimistic than I ever did with the last four.  This was unintentionally caught super early, which means I can start the Progesterone and other medications right as the blastocyst implants, a critical time in my obstetric history.

Thanks to my hypochondriac tendencies after every miscarriage, I am sure I am pregnant within a couple of weeks.  I remain ill and hurting for up to 3 months post loss, and never know what that means.  So, to give my mind and body a rest, I asked for a pregnancy test so I could see negative results.

That plan backfired.

What I must fight now is the constant tension I feel throughout my body.  I worry.  Constantly.  Every morning, noon, and night I practice the breathing I learned through hypnobirthing to relax my body and make things as hospitable as I can for the embryo.

The next few months are going to be TOUGH.

But I am so glad I have this place where, with you, I am making the moments count.

I Caved

College football season has begun.  Once upon a time,  I would've dreaded this time.  It was one more thing that took Ben's attention away from me.   This year, though,  I am looking forward to it.  Nay,  I am encouraging football watching.

My thinking changed completely last year when football pulled me through the last month of contractions.  Every night I would lay on the couch trying to find some comfort in the awful sensations that wouldn't lead anywhere, and watch football with husband.  It's hard to hate something that you have bonded so close with.

So.  This year?  I was excited.  Unfortunately, our mode of football viewing was discontinued when we changed internet service providers.  As we don't have a TV,  we were stuck.  How were we going to watch our beloved Cougars as well as the other 8 games during a week?

I came up with a solution.  One that even shocked my husband.

I suggested we buy a cheap TV and get cable.

I know.  I must have lost my marbles.

Anyway.  My husband took me up on the offer.  Last week, he found an awesome deal on Craigslist (or some on-line thing) for a $10 TV.  He contacted the cable company and bought a very basic cable package for $20 a month.

In a couple of days,  we will join millions of other Americans by watching multiple college football games at the same time.  More accurately,  I will blog while my husband watches football and provides a running commentary on what is happening.  Since I am remarkably capable of doing four things at once,  I will write, listen, watch, and comment without missing a beat.

And I will have an excuse to eat hot wings.  I love hot wings.

Random Tidbits

When we were first married,  I insisted Ben always grocery shop with me.  We hate grocery shopping,  but it's one of those necessary evils.  Anyway,  he used to commiserate with a fellow friend whose wife also never grocery shopped without him.  They always had the best jokes (not).

Well.  Once I finished school,  it was absurd that I wait for Ben to shop; thus,  I learned to go without him.

Fast forward to now.  Because of my new pelvic rest mandate from the doctor,  I can no longer shop on my own.  Being the awesome wife that I am,  I made sure to point this out to my husband.

Now the joke is on him.

________________________________

I have a confession to make:  I'm still nursing Andrew.  Once I found out I was pregnant,  I decided to fully wean him.  He was taking formula twice a day, but once I made this decision the more he has resisted.  I started panicking once I was put on Progersterone supplements because of of the side effects is decreased milk supply.   Miraculously,  my milk supply has increased with this supplement.  I don't know if it's because God knew Andrew would need that time with me to ease the transition or if its because my body reacts in bizarre ways to medicine; whatever the reason,  I'm glad.

Will I nurse the entire pregnancy?  I don't know.  I guess I'll figure out what is best for both of us.

________________________________

With my last two pregnancies,  I remember experiencing the pregnancy brain phenomena,  but I forgot just how bad it gets.  Lately,  I will start an intelligent sentence and immediately forget a) what I was going to say b) the word(s) I was going to use or c) a combination of both.  Basically,  I come off like a bumbling idiot who stays at home with her kids.  Well,  for those who perceive me that way,  I do have a degree.  So there.

________________________________

Andrew and Emily have been alternating with different sicknesses the past few weeks.  Needless to say, our sleep has been less than beneficial.  However,  we can't entirely blame the kids.  Ben has been sleeping less because he is worried about his medical school applications and I have been sleeping poorly because of all my pregnancy worries.

But I'll stick with blaming the kids.  It's so much easier that way.

________________________________

I've was reading this history about the war between the states.  It was really interesting learning more about Grant and Sherman; unfortunately, the writing became so confusing that I had to put it down.  Between that and all the recent disappointments with fiction,  I have started reading my husband's Biology and Physiology textbooks.  I know,  call me a nerd,  but it is really entertaining!

Intentional Happiness + Bigger Picture Moment

Finding intentional happiness and seeing the bigger picture is easy for me this week.  I'm sure you know why.

!!!

Morning Sickness

When I took the pregnancy test,  the positive line was faint.  It worried me, slightly, but I was too excited to think about it.  While in California last week,  my anxiety kicked in.  I became weepy, angry, depressed, and frustrated with everything around me.  My husband was confused by my sudden alteration and finally confronted me.  In the quiet and safe place of the guest room, I unloaded all my worries.

What if I'm not pregnant?

You took a test, it was positive.

But what if it was wrong? What if I had a miscarriage early on?

I think that is pretty rare, but we could go buy another pregnancy test if you'd like.

No, I'd have to take it in the morning (don't ask) and we don't have time.  If I am pregnant, why don't I feel sick yet?

You're not that far along.  Be patient.

Yes, but, but, but, but.....

And the list continued on and on.   If I had been thinking clearly, I would have recognized my anxiety and severe mood swings as sure indicators I am pregnant.  Thankfully my husband did not mention that.

My pregnancies follow a simple order. Five weeks: nausea.  Six weeks: excessive vomiting. Seven-fourteen weeks: IV therapy.  Fourteen until the end: continued nausea and/or vomiting but no IV therapy.  Thus, not feeling sick immediately reminds me of my miscarriage, when the symptoms did not arise and I knew something was wrong.

We returned from our trip and almost immediately the nausea set in.  It wasn't overpowering, at first, but enough to make me smile.  I would feel the urge to vomit and happily tell my husband.  I think he thought I was losing it.

I am sitting now, in front of the computer, closing my eyes against the nausea,  willing my stomach to keep my dinner down, and smiling.  Because to me, sickness means a healthy pregnancy and I really want to meet this baby.

!!!

My Beautiful Children

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In Other News...

Good News

I'm pregnant.



Bad News

I have to tell my husband.

Since we have no idea what causes this, I can only imagine how the conversation will go.

Fake Conversation but Accurate Representation of Us Communicating

Scene: Ben is sitting at the computer when I walk into the room.

Me:  Babe, I'm pregnant.

Ben:  What?  How did this happen?

Me:  I don't know!  You tell me, you're supposed to be the doctor!

Ben:  .....

Me:  (Raises eyebrows.)


Ben: (Turns back to the computer.)


Me:  Anyway.  I think I remember my parents talking about birds befriending bees...

Ben:  Wait, you bought a bird!

Me:  Um, what? Are you even listening to me?

Ben:  Yeah, you said you're pregnant and...

Me:  Obviously this conversation is going nowhere if you don't get off of the computer and pay attention to me.

Ben:   I'm sorry.  (Shuts laptop.) What were you saying?

Me:  Right.  My parents said something about birds befriending bees and that leading to...

Ben:  I don't think birds can befriend bees.  That's scientifically inaccurate.

Me:  Well, how do you think this happened?

Ben:  (Sighs.)  I don't know but we'd better figure it out real quick.

Me:  You're telling me.

I guess the truth will come out eventually,  like when I start puking.  Maybe I'll just wait until he figures it out himself.  That always works.

Now how will I tell the extended family?