my personal gethsemene

Wow. Thanks everyone for their concern and support. I guess a simple announcement would have been more kosher, but I like to give people something to read, beyond the obvious. So, here's some more of what's been going on in my world. 

Last time I checked, the baby still has a heartbeat. But many a scary things have happened in the last 3 weeks alone, I have totally changed my outlook on life.

Anti-nausea medicine worked for a few days, enough so I could go to work in the morning, but the rest of the day I slept. I lived off milk because it made me feel nourished. Ice cold milk=MMM.

Then I got really sick. I passed more blood, assuming it was the pocket of blood because it was dark brown and came out slowly. I started throwing up around six times a day again. I was light-headed and struggled just keeping my eyes open and fixed on something. Well, one morning I threw up five times before 9:30 am, and I felt the beginning of something horrible taking over my body.

Finally, one morning I surrendered and told my mom I couldn’t take the throwing up any longer. We got in the car at 5:30 am and headed to the emergency room. Of course it took 45 mins to get a nurse in the room to stick an IV in my wrist. Three liters of fluid later they sent me home and I felt better, comparatively. My face and eyes were puffy from crying and having water pump through my veins.

I got put on a clear-liquids diet. Unfortunately broth, jello, popsicles, peppermint tea, and Gatorade continued to come back up. I went another 24 hours without food and little water, so I went to the ER again, was given another liter, but this time consulted with a doctor who diagnosed me with Hyperemisis Gravid arum (aka extreme morning sickness). Since water was all I could stomach, they told me to just drink water for a few days.

Fortunately, my doctor was on-call that night, so when they called him at 2:00 in the morning, he insisted I came in first thing in the morning and see him. With only water keeping myself upright, I dragged myself into his office the next morning and plead with him for an answer, something magical to fix my warped stomach and raw esophagus.

He prescribed me more IV’s. Ten days of IV therapy, pumping nutrients into my emaciated body so the baby would have a chance to make it. After day two of IV therapy, I decided to try a piece of bread. I nibbled a chunk of crust, and ten mins later, my body went into cahoots. Too much, too soon. I just stuck with water for the next two days.

A few days later I attempted a baked potato. I got a few bites in and I could feel my stomach digest it. Miraculously, the potato stayed down! So the next morning for breakfast, I ate another baked potato, with some butter, and my body felt like it was floating. Finally! Progress!

Yesterday morning I woke up feeling well-rested. I decided a bowl of Kix for breakfast sounded safe. I devoured it, sipping every last drop of milk and just sat there, eyes closed, feeling my body tingle, finding its equilibrium. After my IV treatment, I decided a bagel from 5th street Bagelry was well-deserved. So I wasted no time and devoured a bagel sandwich, giant cookie, and cup of diet coke and just sat, eyes closed, enjoying the absorption of nutrients and caffeine working its magic on my nervous system. A few hours later, I baked my mom’s famous brown sugar muffins and devoured two hot muffins with lemonade. Perfection. Chicken flavored Cup-o-noodles for dinner. Banana for bedtime snack. Then a handful of trail mix for when I woke up starving at 2 in the morning. Best part--it all stayed down.

With all the nutrients running through my body, I can think clearly now. It’s amazing how being cut off from normal every day things makes you appreciate the simple joys in life. I’m never complaining again.

It’s been physically challenging, obviously. But I would argue it’s been harder emotionally dealing with the Hyperemisis Gravidarum. It’s an extremely selfish sickness. I had to completely depend on someone else to ensure I stayed alive. There is no way I could have gone through this with a child, an infant especially, because I was a vegetable for almost three weeks straight. So I begin to question whether future pregnancies are even worth considering. Am I destined to have an only child? Will I get this sick every time? Will people judge me for choosing to only have one child? Is a reflection of my character if I choose to stop at one? Will I have to wait until my first born is old enough to take care of him/herself before I try again? I never thought I’d be at a point in my life where I had to consider the concept of having an only child, and/or adopting, or waiting ten years between each child. I guess I’ll just have to take it day by day for now.

Right now, though, I am full of optimism. I laid awake last night thinking about all the things I can finally start doing. Breaking from the isolation is first on my list. A trip to Seattle with my mom second. At this point, the world is my oyster.

All aboard!

I have risen back from the dead and can now blog about my recent experiences. Hold on tight.

I climbed aboard the baby express, unknowingly, but aboard regardless. I was slightly unprepared, however. I was lacking really important nutrients that growing embryos constantly suck from your bones. By week 6, yes I know that's early, I temporarally fell off the babytrain and got dragged behind, holding on  for dear life.

I got the text-book symptoms of morning sickness. Tired, pukey, and I realized living at my new house was a major problem because it was a stink pot of dirt, cat pee, smoke, and I couldn't take it anymore, so I decided to take over my old room at my parent's until I could handle my house again. It's been a month and I cannot get myself to go home. I'm afraid.

My first appointment went well. I got blood work done and without warning I passed out when she was putting the cotton swab on my arm. Yup, out cold. Then I woke up briefly, and passed out again, even colder. I finally gained consciousness after three nurses were called in and my body was propped just right as to get the blood back to my brain. Scary and embarrassing. and sweaty.

I carried on like sick fish floating in old poopy water for three weeks, functioning like an adult with special needs. The smells of shampoo and conditioner would have me running for the toilet, so washing my hair was out of the question for a while. Suddenly, my throwing up once or twice turned into throwing up 30 seconds after I put something in my mouth. Frustrating, especially since I was really lacking nutrients. It got to the point where I couldn't keep water, saltine crackers, sprite, or chicken noodle soup down.

I received some medical intervention, but I didn't know at the time I needed more, like an actual IV and overnight stay in the emergency room. My body closed down after a few days and one morning as I was laying on the couch, I woke up to take a nibble of dry toast, which magically stayed down. Next thing I know I had completely soaked my undergarments and the couch cushion with bright red blood.

So I, with the supervision of my mother, passed a lot of bright red blood, watching and waiting for my little baby to make an appearance. I was drugged up, in shock, and didn't quite grasp what was happening. I just stared while my mom cleaned up what looked like a homicide scene in the bathroom. I remember briefly passing out, escaping earth for a few seconds, and I remember seeing white clouds. My mom was touching my face and I thought angels were touching me. It felt so divine.

I came back to and sat up. Suddenly my stomach rumbled and I instantly craved strawberry yogurt. As my mom talked with the nurse, I had  a bowl of yogurt, jello, and leftover pasta all in one sitting. Even though I was mortified of what just happened, I really needed to get food in my stomach before anything else could happen. Color came back to my face and I was surprisingly stronger than I thought I'd be.

Back to the hospital we went. They took my blood, laying down, and I did just fine. Came back home and the smell of the lysol in the bathroom didn't bother me for once. I took deep breaths and just enjoyed the smell of the air-conditioning, dinner warming up, and my mom's shirt that she let me wear.

The next day the nurse called and read me my results from the blood test. My numbers were surprisingly good, but my white blood cell count was higher than they expected after a miscarriage, so they scheduled an ultrasound just to make sure everything was taken care of.

Six daunting days of waiting, guessing, throwing up still, and a trip to urgent care later, I went in and had an ultrasound. Expecting an infection, hemorrhaging, a possible D&C, I was nervous of what they were going to find. Would they give me medicine to help me finish bleeding completely? Would they tell me my cervix is completely ruined and I could never carry children again?? With deep breaths I submitted myself to their care and with a peaceful countenance allowed them to work their magic on me.

Right away the nurse picked up a heartbeat. Of course, she didn't say it was either mine or not mine, so her not saying it was my baby's made me panic. As she's putting the dopler away, she says confidently, "well, sounds like your baby is doing just fine." Tears came to my eyes as I said, "THERE'S a BABY IN THERE?" She looked at me like, duhhhh, and I just smiled to myself.

The doctor came in, did the ultrasound, picked up the heartbeat again, but picked up something of concern. As he showed me my little bean dancing and kicking, he pointed out a pocket of blood just hanging out near my placenta. I forgot the official words he used, but it's not  good. It is a threat of miscarriage if it comes out wrong. But, if I take care of myself and keep it easy, he said it will most likely come out painlessly, like a period, or re-absorb into my body. Until the excess blood goes away, I am still at risk of losing my baby.

Fortunately, I've been blessed by prayers galore. I know Heavenly Father is holding my hand through this because of the leaps of improvement I've made within the past three days. Medicines like Zofran and Phenagren are my crutches right now and I'm not ashamed. I have kept food down for two days straight and I can honestly say right  now I feel back to my normal self, pre-pregnancy. Besides the little waves of gross smells and the tightness of my pants around my belly, I am a new woman.

Ppregnancy is hard. I know women have it harder and deal with more than I had to this last month. But at the end of the day, all I can do is appreciate my mom a thousand times more for going through this SIX times, and wanting SIX babies, and sacrificing her life to bring us into the world. I kept asking myself "why?" over and over. Why do people do this? It is the most miserable thing I've ever done in my life. But then I heard the heartbeat loud and clear and then I remembered why.

I'll try to keep everyone updated, sans long-winded posts like this.
I need a cookie and a fist full of vitamins. TAKE YOUR VITAMINS!!!!