How appropriate to us HGers!
My friend Caroline runs this fun blog: Today is a Holiday.
Each day, she posts info on a new holiday. Today’s post could not be more relevant, since I’m officially done with my pump and am mailing it back on Monday.
Let’s all dispose of our drugs appropriately!
Also, you should subscribe to this blog! It’s lots of fun.
I had imagined at the start of all of this that I would want to be surprised about the gender of the baby. Imagine what a magical moment at the birth: “It’s a….!” I’ve known a few people who have done that, and it’s so exciting to wait for the news! You hit refresh over and over on their facebook page and keep checking the twitter feed. It’s thrilling!
Before the HG, I wanted this. I didn’t want to know until the moment of birth if I was having a boy or a girl. Sure it would be tough not knowing. Sure it would make me crazy. I could handle it, though. I could take the exquisite torture of having to wait.
Having re-experienced HG, though, I don’t think I’m able to wait. I want to find out what the gender is. I almost feel like it’s a cookie that I earned somehow. It’s as though, in my mind, I’ve been through enough punishment. I just can’t handle anything self-inflicted even if it is positive.
Juan is thankful for my change of heart. I don’t think he could have gone 5 months without knowing, and I’m certain that he wouldn’t have been able to resist telling me. When he has a secret like that, one that is just so good and so exciting, he just can’t keep it to himself. He just can’t bear it. The news just bubbles up out of him. He loves to share things, especially big, happy things that other people will find exciting, too. Christmas and birthdays are torture for him because he wants to spill the beans so badly about what presents he bought. It’s adorable.
With all of that in mind, we will be finding out the sex of the baby next Wednesday when we go in for The Big Ultrasound! I’m counting down the days!
I’ve even made a little poll for you guys to vote if you’re feeling in the guessing mood. Check it out! It’s over in the side-bar. See how good you are at psychic predictions!
We’ll let you guys know as soon as we find out. Well, okay. After we find out and after we tell our families. My mom would absolutely slay me if I blogged or tweeted the news before she knew! Who can blame her!
And don’t forget to keep voting for me for Top 25 Pregnancy Journals!
Knocked Up – Knocked Over has been nominated for inclusion in Circle of Moms Top 25 Pregnancy Journals!
I’m pretty excited about this. It’s a great opportunity to reach more people and spread awareness about HG.
Click here to vote for Knocked Up – Knocked Over on Circle of Moms. I’m pretty behind right now, so I definitely need help catching up.
You’ll also see a Circle of Moms badge in the right sidebar. You can click on that to access the voting page. It looks like this:
Please vote for me each day though May 18th! I’d love the opportunity to reach out to more women who may be dealing with HG and need support.
Thanks!
So there I was, minding my own business, walking in the park when all of a sudden I hear a loud POP and feel this excruciating pain in my right buttock. Incidentally, I love the word buttock. I think I’ll just say it again, because it’s so full of awesome: buttock.
So anyway, things got pretty hazy after that. I came to some time later surrounded by paramedics and a very sheepish-looking park ranger.
Here’s what apparently happened: A bear came down out of the hills and was ambling around the park. This is California, folks. This kind of thing does happen. Unfortunately for me, just as the ranger was taking aim with his tranq gun, I moseyed into his line of fire and took the dart right in my buttock.
Despite my (inadvertent) interference with Ranger Duties, they won’t charge me with any sort of misdemeanor, and yes, the bear was captured and is even now being transported back to some happy home in the mountains.
And that folks, is why I’m walking a little funny and not wanting to sit down much today.
No not really.
But that makes a better story than what actually happened.
What actually happened is that one of my Zofran infusion sites on my leg became infected. It was hurting like the dickens even after I pulled the plug and let it rest. So I asked my Alere nurse about it, and her response was, “Get thee to a doctor.”
Dr. Awesome confirmed this morning that it is, indeed, infected. This means I got to get a shot of antibiotics in my ass, and a sparkly new prescription for antibiotics. Kefflex, 4x per day for 7 days. As a bonus, a side effect of the antibiotic is… wait for it… Nausea! Yay for me! The emetophobe in me just adores that idea! Just when I think I’m about to kick this monster to the curb it finds a way to bring me back in. HG is a bastard.
The good news is, I can always bump up my pump dosage if I want. The bad news is that might potentially mean that I might be stuck with my little beeping friend for a little longer.
One good thing that came out of it was that I got to talk to her a bit about the pump-weaning strategy Alere is trying to push me in to. Alere won’t let me wean to zero. Which is stupid. But it’s their policy. They’ll only let me wean down to the equivalent of 20 mg/day, which, while not the massive doses HGers usually take but is still pretty respectable.
I think that’s bogus. I want to wean down to zero. I don’t want to wean off the pump to go onto the oral tabs. Those produce much worse side effects (constipation) for me than the subcutaneous infusion. I mentioned this to my doctor, and she said, “Well, do you pretty much know how to work the pump by now? Why don’t you just do it yourself?” Heck, yeah! See why I like her so much?
So on Friday, they’ll bump me down to the equivalent of 20 mg/day. Then I’ll just manage the rest of it on my own through the weekend. I’m hoping to be done with the little bastard by my next doctor’s appointment on Wednesday! Cool, huh?
I’m not sure why I’ve been putting off this post. Maybe it’s because there’s just so much I could say that I’m not sure where to start. This may be rambly, so bear with me.
Last week, Juan and I went to visit with the midwives at one of the local birth centers. It was very, very cool, and for me, it went very, very well.
She began by giving us a quick tour of the birth center. Having never been to one before, I had no idea what to expect. I wasn’t sure if I should expect an office-like atmosphere or what. What I found was a very quiet, peaceful place. It was very home-like and comfortable. There were couches in the consultation room, a nice-sized bed in the birth room (which included a deliberately small, cavelike attached bathroom for a mom who wants to retreat), and a gorgeous room with an absolutely huge, deep tub. Not to mention, the exam room, kitchenette, auxilliary labor room, etc.
I really liked that she showed me the specific things in the rooms, too. I remember when we toured the hospital in St. Louis, they brought us to a room and said, “This is one of our labor/delivery rooms.” And that was it. As first time parents, you don’t really know what to ask about, so you stand around and say, “Oh, interesting. Thank you.” I can’t remember if I asked about a squat bar, but questions like that were met with answers like, “Oh, yes, we have those. Just request it at the time.” The difference here was that she was pointing out specific things that you could do. She showed me their birth stool and even showed where they usually put it and described how you’d sit on it, with your birth partner sitting behind you on the bed for you to lean against. I am certain that if I had asked if I could sit on it to see how it worked, she would have let me.
This kind of thing is important to me. I tend to get bogged down in not knowing exactly how things work mechanically. For example, with the birth bar, I was intrigued by it, but I’d never seen one. Never tried it out. I didn’t want to fool around with the whole “Am I doing it right” thing, so I just didn’t ask. With something right there that I can look over really carefully ahead of time and even try out just to get the feel of it, it’s just a whole different level of confidence.
At any rate, the birth center is gorgeous. The midwife we met with really took the time to connect with me. At one point, I was talking a little about some of my hospital experiences and becoming stressed out, and she just reached over and squeezed my hand. Just little, simple things like that. She just really went out of her way to validate my feelings and show empathy. It was very peaceful and comforting and I can see, with a demeanor like that, why she has a successful midwifery practice.
She also really seemed to get the whole thing with HG. She took a gentle look at the scars from my midline and failed PICC, and was just so gentle and sympathetic about what I’ve been through. No suggestion to try this, no suggestion that I should have done that. Just very gentle and kind. Having someone in the natural birth community who really recognizes that I don’t have a choice about pumping my body full of chemicals is both surprising and a relief. She is also willing to hold a space for me until I am off my pump and my doctor is able to release me into her care. She’s willing to wait for me, and I so appreciate that. No pressure, no stress. When I am healthy enough and able, she will be there for me.
Aside from all the touchy-feely stuff, they also meet all of the requirements that you would expect them to meet. Things like licensing, emergency preparedness, how they handle hospital transfers, etc. All that stuff that you absolutely expect and consider completely necessary for a practice like this. And I really grilled her. I had a huge list of questions, and she answered every single one completely and without waffling about it.
For those curious, here is a link to the list of questions I asked.
I came away feeling very, very positive. It all felt, so… right. Juan not so much. He’s very much married to the idea of the hospital model of birth: lay back and let the doctor drive. This resulted in a bit of… ah… hearty discussion between the two of us. Thankfully, ultimately, he has found that he can respect that I have some pretty serious aversions to being in a hospital. He may not understand why, but he accepts that I do. And I very much appreciate his support.
Ultimately, it’s up to the insurance company. I’ve applied for them to accept this birth center as in-network, and I’m just waiting to hear back from them. Keep your fingers crossed that they give us the approval!
Well, folks, it’s official. I am weaning from the pump!
Assuming all goes well, I’m hoping to be off it in time for The Big Ultrasound, scheduled for May 4th.
This by no means indicates that I am “normal”. I don’t even know what normal really means anymore. But it does mean that I’ve stabilized and reached the point where comfort can mean taking my ODTs as needed.
It also means no more needle sticks, no more beeping in the night when I lay on it, no more forgetting the syringes in the fridge and having to make Juan hike down and get them, no more hauling around my friend, no more people asking “What’s that thing?”, and no more tubes getting tangled in wiggly toddler feet. No more viscious, hot, swelling and itching knots on my thighs. No more having to test my ketones. No more obsessing about weight.
In short: Freedom.
I can practically taste it. And it tastes so, so good.
Monday they reduced my dose from 0.820 ml/hour (39ish mg/day) to 0.750 ml/hour (36ish mg/day). It went great. I had a rough patch Tuesday evening, but I had skipped my afternoon snack, so it was attributable to lack of food. Because of this rough patch, I decided to hold steady on Wednesday. Then today, since everything has gone well, we reduced my rate to 0.660 ml/hour. I don’t know what that is per day, and I don’t want to do the math. I don’t want to obsess over it and get hit with psychosomatic symptoms.
We are keeping all of the rest of my medications the same. We want no outside variables clouding whether or not the zofran rate reduction is working.
So far, so good! Cross your fingers things continue this way!
By the way, we did meet with the midwives yesterday, but I’ll have to update about that later.
I very much lost my temper this weekend when I went to purchase vitamins.
I normally purchase vitamins at my local health food store. I find their staff to be knowledgeable, friendly, and sympathetic. They’ve never tried to upsell me on anything. They simply ask me what I’m looking for, gently inquire about my needs to make sure they direct me to the correct product, and make a recommendation based on that. They’re also a local business, which I prefer to support over a chain any day.
Unfortunately, they’re closed on Sundays, which meant I found myself yesterday in a big, chain vitamin shop (or shoppe, haha) trying to find my vitamin. I asked an employee to direct me to the New Chapter vitamins, and he obliged, but as I bent down to get the one I need, he became excited and grabbed another bottle off the shelf and asked if I’d tried this other brand. He went on for a few moments about how wonderful it was. It was weird how excited he became. Like a switch flipped or something.
I let him wind down, and then thanked him, but declined. I explained that the New Chapter vitamins do not seem to make me ill at this time and with my precarious health. I’m not interested in experimenting with another brand or even another vitamin from the same company! This one works for me, and at this point, I need to maintain the balance of what is successful. I don’t even take their prenatal (which I know is a very good one) because it may be different enough to send me over the edge. I like this vitamin because it is easy to digest and doesn’t make me ill. Also, because the contents are sourced from food, it has a high bioavailability so I know I am absorbing most of what’s listed on the back of the bottle.
His switch flipped on again, and he began to tell me about some book written by Dr. So-and-So, MD, PhD about how nausea in pregnant women is caused by zinc and B6 deficiency and how I should start taking zinc and B6. He went on and on about zinc and how pregnant women need to take more zinc.
“Well, gaaaaaaawlleeee! Whah didn’t Ah think about thayut! Ah’m so stewpid. Hurhurhur.” (No, I didn’t actually say that!)
I did however, point out that I had, in fact, been taking plenty of coenzymated B6 thankyouverymuch. Just under what’s believed to cause permanent nerve damage to be precise. And guess what? It magically didn’t work! Do you know why? Because I don’t have regular pregnancy nausea. As I told him a moment ago, I have hyperemesis. At this point I pushed up me sleeves and started showing him my scars. “See this one? This was my first PICC line. It failed because my veins were shredded. See this other one? This was the second attempt at the PICC. Also failed.” Then I pulled out my pump. “Do you know what this is? This is a drug pump that I have to wear day and night so I get a steady flow of the medicine that allows me to be out of the house and functioning. I don’t think a zinc tablet was going to help me.”
You will be proud. I managed to keep a friendly tone and a smile on throughout the conversation despite the fact that I wanted to take that bottle of hose-sized pills and cram it up his read end. But when I got to the car, I lost it. Poor Juan had to listen to me rant all the way home.
Seriously, though, do people think before they open their pie-hole? This guy was so intent to lecture me on nutrition, when in all honesty, he’s got no clue what my situation is. Here’s how that conversation should have gone if he had a clue about salesmanship and customer service:
See the difference there? Now the above is good customer service and good salesmanship. What he pulled with me was pedantic and rude.
I don’t know why this dude was crying into his soup anyway. I was getting a friggin $50 bottle of vitamins. Sheesh. It’s not like I was going in for Flinstones. New Chapter is expensive. He made a decent, easy sale. Too bad I don’t want to go back in there because of his I’m-so-much-smarter-than-you attitude.
As an aside, can I just say this? YAAAAAYYYY!!!! I CAN TAKE GROWN UP VITAMINS AGAIN! Everybody do the happy dance!
I had a comment on my most recent post that really got me thinking about what HG is like and what constitutes typical HG.
Here’s the comment from Janet at http://babymakesusfive.blogspot.com/:
“I am so happy for you! You are not letting your HG win this time!!
ps I must say that I am a bit jealous that I was not able to be as well as this.”
First of all, thanks so much for reading and commenting Janet. I so appreciate your well-wishes. I also appreciate you being courageous enough to mention your feelings of jealousy at how quickly mine seems to be wrapping up. I appreciate your honesty, and I very much appreciate and validate your feelings.
But you made me think: Might my experience with HG this time around give people a skewed picture of what HG can be for women? The last thing I want is for someone to read my blog and then turn around and tell one of my HG sisters, “Well, I read online that it should clear up by week 13. So you should be fine by now. Why aren’t you fine?”
So I wanted to take a moment and just remind my dear readers that every HG pregnancy is different. Many women find that the HG begins to let up a bit around week 20. For my first pregnancy, I didn’t start feeling better until week 16 or so. Some suffer their entire pregnancies with HG.
I’m not sure why it eased up so quickly for me this time. It was very, very intense when it was happening, but it eased up at around 12 weeks. Part of this makes me wonder: Did I have just morning sickness? Was it really HG? But then I remember the needles, and the 12 lbs gone in two weeks, and the needles, and the ER doctor crouching by my bedside softly tell me he was going to do his best to help me feel better but my nutrient levels in my blood were all screwed up and they might need to put me on TPN if they couldn’t get it under control and crying and telling him that I didn’t want to destroy my liver, and more needles, and the unsuccessful PICC lines, and my mom trudging upstairs constantly bringing me ice cubes and reminding me to suck on them so I wouldn’t have to get the line into my chest. Yeah, I definitely the HG is real. Even as the memory fades, it was real. For some reason, though, it was short this time around.
I feel almost normal now. Maybe it’s because I’m on the Zofran pump and getting 39 mg of Zofran pushed into my body each day. The other meds probably help, too. I know I am not normal. I can’t live my life in a normal way. I tire too easily. If I forget to eat, the nausea comes back. I need help to do so many basic things: cooking, helping my daughter go potty and take a bath, getting food at the store, etc.
But comparatively, I do feel really good. In that sense I am blessed. I am so lucky, but it’s just that: luck. There are so many of my HG sisters who are not so lucky.
To all of you who haven’t been so lucky, I send my love. If my luck means you need to not read my blog for a while, that’s okay. If it makes you feel sad and jealous, that’s okay, too. Please allow yourself to feel your feelings. I would never, ever want to cause harm to any of you.
It’s Wednesday. Day 3 of my return to work, and it’s going amazingly well.
I was nervous about coming back. I didn’t know what it would be like to get up early and be upright in a chair all day. My job is completely sedentary computer work, but there is no opportunity to just go have a lie down. After being parked on the couch for two months, I was worried about the physical demands of being back.
My first day back ended up being incredibly positive, even though by the end I was exhausted. I had so many people stop me in the walk-ways and come by my desk to welcome me back. It made me feel so good to know how many people had been thinking of me. Invariably, everyone asked how I was doing, and I was pleased to say, “I’m doing so much better. It’s great to be back among the living.” Lots of people asked about my pump, which, oddly, I appreciated. I thought I would feel self-conscious about it, but I think it would have been worse if they’d stared at it and tried to pretend it wasn’t there. Somehow it’s less embarassing to be able to explain it and make a joke about it.
One of my office friends asked about it in the break area, and another fellow, who is really more of an aquaintance piped up and said, “I know what that is! I have one, too!” And he pulled out his insulin pump. It was really cool to meet someone who had a pump, too. I had been explaining to people that it’s like an insulin pump, but I had never met someone in real life who actually had a pump. I’d never seen one in person before either. We ended up spending some time talking about it, and he was kind enough to let me ask some questions: How often does he have to change the sites and where does he think it’s easiest to put it. He only changes his sites every 3 days (lucky!), and he likes to put his in the back of his arms, something that’s not an option for me because the Zofran gets pushed through at a higher volume than the insulin pump. Like me, he thinks the belly is the worst place. His pump is sleek and shiny and fits neatly in his pocket compared to my big clonker which I have to wear around my neck in a bag. It makes me feel lucky, though, to know that I get to kiss my pump goodbye in a few weeks (!!!), whereas he’s got his for the rest of his life. It’s comforting to know, though, that I’m not the only cyborg in the office.
Monday, I also called one of the local midwifery practices to set up a consultation. I mentioned that I had been suffering with HG, and instead of suggesting acupucture or ginger (like the previous midwifery practice), she immediately asked about PICC lines and meds. When I explained that the PICCs failed, she asked if I had a line tunneled into my chest. Wow! That’s exactly the order of interventions my doctor had listed! When I told her I was impressed by her ready knowledge of HG and wanted to be sure to see her specifically for the consult, she laughed and said, “Don’t worry. Both my partner and I know about HG. I learned from her. She got her knowledge through firsthand experience!”
You could have peeled me up off the floor. I wanted to cry with relief. One of my major concerns about seeing a midwife is that they would dimish the experiences I have had with the HG. I simply can’t believe my luck. How could I have stumbled into a town that has both a doctor and midwives who know so much about HG? I feel like someone is trying to tell me something here. It’s almost like God is hitting me over the head with the signs that this child is blessed and meant to be born here in California at this time.
These midwives work in a birth center located less than 5 minutes from the best NICU in the county. They know about HG. They can do waterbirths. They are willing and able to work with my doctor in whatever capacity I need to ensure the HG stays under control. They are willing to save a space for me in their practice until I’m weaned off the zofran pump to ensure a smooth transition. And most of all, there’s that feeling in my gut that things are right. The consultation is scheduled for next Thursday, late afternoon. It can’t come soon enough for me. I can’t be certain things are right until Juan and I meed with them, so please keep your fingers crossed.
With all of the positivity of coming back to work and speaking to these midwives, not to mention the joyful pregnancy affirmations I’ve been listening to as part of my hypnobabies practice, I am feeling incredibly blessed. Do you ever have moments where you feel like your heart is just so full it’s about to overflow? I just feel so full of joy and positivity right now. It is such a good feeling to have. I am coming out of a very dark place and the sunlight feels so good on my face.
And I can’t wait to get started!
