Archive for March, 2012

And this should surprise all of 2.7 whole people who haven’t already figured out why I a.) dropped off the face of the earth and b.) have been violently ill for the last 4+ weeks. It’s been…extremely rough. After I found out I was knocked up but before the nausea/vomiting kicked into high gear at just before 6 weeks, I had almost decided to blog through the sickness. Humor helps everything! I’ll make my puke funny and charming! Vomit with a heart of gold. Yeah, NO. There has been zero funny/charming moments the last month, only crippling nausea and so. much. dry heaving.

Since I’m NOT a fan of PICC lines and/or intravenous nutrition in general, I spend every day, all day trying to hold down small amounts of food long enough for it to move on from stomach to intestines, where it’s 50% more likely to stay in when I start puking/dry heaving. There is no relief from the nausea, it is there, it is constant, it feels eternal. Sometimes the medication slows the throwing up down to 1-3 times a day, and I’ve even gone a handful of days with no puking at all which would be comforting if I still wasn’t dying of nausea. Then for no known reason the next day the throwing up intensifies ten-fold, even though there is no change to my meager diet or medication. It makes no sense, it’s just the MAGICAL trickery of hyperemesis. Though I had to be medicated the entire nine months with both my previous FT pregnancies, with Rowan the worst tapered off  between 18-20 weeks, and with Keaton between 12-14 weeks, so best case scenario I have roughly 2-4 weeks left of this shit.

The kids have been doing okay, I think. To be honest I’m more worried about when I am well enough to take care of them again and they go into shock from lack of being spoiled by their grandmas, who have been a HUGE help as I’ve been completely bed or bathroom ridden. They come in to tell me about their days in the evenings and when I’m feeling well enough they climb up on my bed for bedtime songs. Because of our history of loss I didn’t really want to tell the kids about the pregnancy too early, but after a week of listening to me retch in the bathroom all day, I decided it was maybe better that they know what is wrong with mama instead of letting their imaginations run wild, or think they are somehow responsible. When we told them they both said “YAYYYyyyyy…!(?)” in a tone that started off excited but sort of faded out when the enormous reality of another sibling crashed down upon them. It was quite precious/amusing really, but after they asked if it was a boy or a girl and we told them it would be a long time before we found out, they changed the subject to something much more important like that one part in Despicable Me where one of the little green guys says ‘poop’.

{Sidenote: You know who sucks at keeping secrets? SIX-YEAR-OLDS. Keaton forgot about the whole thing 30 seconds after we told him but later that night we sat Rowan down and impressed upon her the importance of keeping our special news a secret for just a little while, explaining that we need to wait until the baby grows bigger and stronger. She was 100% listening and reflected her understanding both in words and body language. Naturally, by the end of the week her school and dance teachers plus 30 of her closest friends and acquaintances “accidentally” found out. Because she told them. Because she lies. Because secrets are “hard” and these things “just sort of happen”.}

You can’t tell it from this post, and honestly it’s hard to see the big picture through the puke and the medication haze, but we are insanely happy to be expecting Sammy Davis Junior Junior. This Ultrasound was ordered in part because of my history of miscarriage, in part because I’ve been so sick and in part because the little bugger was too stubborn to let us hear his/her heartbeat via doppler at my last appointment. But mostly I think my midwife could see how hopeless and terrible the last 4 weeks have been and she knew I needed to see some proof that there is a point to all this suffering. Seeing the little mite moving around in there, kicking feet, waving hands, beating heart and flipity flopping all over the screen was exactly it. Exactly what we needed and proof of exactly why I’m such a giant sucker to actively put myself through this for the third time. Now? Only 30ish weeks to go…

* I’ve been holding this title for quite some time, as evidenced by the comments on this post. Thanks, Heather!


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