Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Thanksgiving beast

Fall through Christmas is my favorite time of year. Starting with September, the month to celebrate the birth of Lilah and the change to autumn, my favorite season. Cool weather, beautiful colors; the crispness of the weather and leaves add a sort of edge to life that makes things like knitting a steamy mug of something fabulous all the more cozy.
This year I'm missing out. Nothing is enjoyable when everyday is operated on survival mode and I am constantly trying to endure or distract myself from how miserable I feel. It is starting to feel like the holidays that weren't. We've canceled trips to see family, omitted treasured food preparations, and most regrettably, decided not to send Christmas cards this year. Shit, might as well cancel Christmas for Lilah.
To recap briefly, I feel ill constantly. There is an always present level of nausea/sour stomach/ taste of vomit in my mouth. It is intermixed with bouts of vomiting (3-5 times a day). This condition frequently escalates into stomach/ torso pain severe enough to wake me from sleep and prevent me from returning to slumber. This pregnancy is hell, and I am miserable.
I'm left feeling weak and isolated from the rest of the world. Lately I've been finding myself angry. Angry that growing a life feels like a long slow death. Bitter that so few other preggos feel ill to this extent and thus no one seems to understand. I am angry when Rob announces he is going running. Angry because I am jealous and have grown disgustingly codependent on my husband.
So this fall is going unfulfilled. No cool weather jogs. I'm knitting less and less these days. There is no steaming cup of anything that makes me feel fabulous. The only things steaming are the severely pissed off hemorrhoids that rival the size of a small country.
I'm usually thankful for fall. Thankful for a lot of things actually. And while I am still grateful for the many blessings I have in this life, I am mourning what I am missing and will be even more grateful to enjoy once again next year.
Feeling so ill does not bode well for me. I'm turning into a bit of an asshole. I don't even like me anymore. This is not to be confused with low self-esteem or a poor self-image. I am short-tempered, smile infrequently, bitch often, and sigh miserably non-stop. I like "me". I am not me lately and I miss me more and more.
So this Thanksgiving, instead of enjoying the feast, I am tolerating the beast. I'm thankful for my amazing husband and daughter. I'm also thankful for the ME they still love and know is in here somewhere.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

PREGNANT, the sequel

Pregnancy is not for the faint of heart, nor weak of stomach. Especially in my case. When I was pregnant with Grace I was diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum. In real terms this was nausea and vomiting. Lots of nausea and vomiting. All ten months. So much chunk spewing that after the failed trials with Reglan and oral forms of Zofran I ended up wearing a FANNY PACK with continuous INFUSION into a subcutaneous PORT (this kind of therapy is routinely used for chemotherapy patients to help manage the side effects of chemo). Pregnancy had turned me into a chemo patient. At least it felt like it. The downside to this (like it could get worse, fanny packs had been out for at least a decade) I didn't feel much better. It maybe cut the vomiting down by 30% and I was still nauseous all day, everyday. The worst part of the experience was the minor side effect of constipation. For the record, I literally stopped pooping (no joke). No Colace, Miralax, Docusate, Surfak, or any other related stool softening friends could get my poop to shoot. We should have bought stock in Fleet because for a number of months (the exact length of time I've blocked out) I would have to administer an enema every other day in order to poo. (The 48 hour rule was a "hard" lesson learned when I still didn't have the urge by day four and the enema only angered my bowels. After Rob had to be "Bobby" to my "Whitney" I promised to give a healthy saline squirt every two days. An FYI for this TMI, Labor was NOTHING compared to this event.)

One could imagine my initial reaction, only two days after my triathlon, to find this:
They say every pregnancy is different. I would like to find out who initially said this and punch them in the face. The first week or so I was a little fatigued and STARVING. I craved MEAT, big juicy steak type meat. Until one morning I woke up and all bets were off. I knew it was still early in the pregnancy, but it was ON. I could not have been more pregnant if my name were Kate or Octomom. It's still considered early, but this kid isn't going anywhere. I've got enough HCG coursing through me to rival that Twilight chick (sorry if you haven't read the last book). Lilah + pregnancy = no good for Rob, or anyone else in this household.

Here are the simple truths I have found in the past few weeks:
  1. I feel nauseous, all the time. It is worse at night, when I'm hungry, and after I eat. Fucking awesome. A new symptom with this pregnancy is the intense pain that frequently accompanies the nausea and the vomiting.
  2. I don't take Cymbalta recreationally, so Lilah - Cymbalta = no fun for anyone
  3. I miss running, or even walking for that matter.
  4. Grace is getting the shaft, BIG time. Not only do feel like shit 24/7, I am also overwhelmed/ angry/ sad/ frustrated/lack patience/ and wallow in mom-guilt.
  5. My mouth tastes like vomit most of the time. When it doesn't taste like vomit, it tastes like a very sour version of whatever I last ate.
  6. Nick Jr. is the 3rd parent in our house.
  7. I can eat McDonald's. If it is greasy, nasty, and comes in a white paper sack I can usually keep it down. This makes my inner Bob Green cringe. Hopefully this McFetus won't need to be on "Biggest Loser" by the 3rd trimester.
  8. My heart skips a beat victoriously every time I poop.
  9. I miss me and my fabulous life.