Thursday, March 31, 2011

At a remove

Despite the unabated nausea, exhaustion and even a popping belly that's straining the decency of my slimmer pants, I have not once found myself in a state of excited anticipation, and that...troubles me. It is a little sad. And a little odd. I am glad to be pregnant--I am--but for some reason, it doesn't feel productive: some part of me must be assuming it will end badly. I am not worried, exactly; it's more that I feel resigned. I have no reason to--everything still looks good--but I cannot quite imagine it leading anywhere.

When I was pregnant with Olivia, despite the terror and complications and uncertainty, there was a big part of me that looked forward, that anticipated the smell and feel and presence of that miraculous squirming baby. With Josh, it was one big festival of expectation: I generally assumed and relied on the idea that the pregnancy would go well and he would be fine, even when there was a little drama.

But this time, everything is different. Baby names have not floated through my head; I do not find myself daydreaming about the sweet, slight weight of a newborn in my arms. Jeff and I do not look at each other with that sappy, delighted look that says, Can you believe it? We're having a baby!

I've had to tell a few people, and their excitement for me was hard to take in. It seemed misplaced. Maybe it's self-protection, or hormones, or depression. Maybe the anticipation will kick in once we've got the CVS results, or once I'm not so worn down by the nausea. I wish I knew. I wish I could count on it. I wish I could at least imagine it.
...


Speaking of the nausea, I should let you know that the generic Zofran has helped in one respect: while I am still constantly, brutally nauseated, I am no longer throwing up or otherwise losing what I consume, so my weight has stabilized and I'm not dehydrated. Which is, I suppose, the point. I had hoped I would actually feel better, instead of just not puking, but apparently that was too much to expect. But I'll take it.

Friday, March 25, 2011

The next hurdle

In less than two weeks, I'm going in for a CVS procedure. Much to my surprise and relief, CVS can be done as early as ten weeks' gestation, with results 10-12 days after that. So before the pregnancy is obvious to strangers, I would know about any major chromosomal abnormalities and have the option to terminate.

I think about this a lot. I think about the age-related increase for both screen-able and undetectable problems, about whether it is selfish to have even tried for another child at my age, and about how unreasonably lucky I am to be in this position of possibility at all.

As a good friend reminded me not too long ago, it only takes one. One good egg. I can't do much now except hope this is that one good one, and wait (nauseously, nervously) till there's an answer from the lab.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Promise of relief

I heard you loud and clear: Zofran it is. After a gruesome weekend, I finally called my NP today and she called in an order after a quick conversation in which she quickly went from "have you tried ginger?" to "you poor thing, let's get you some Zofran."

I can't wait to take my first dose. I have dreams of peaceful sleep and even, just maybe, an appetite.

Thank you, thank you for giving me the push I needed.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Unceasing yuck

I hope you don't mind if I bleat and whine ungratefully here but I feel like I just can't take it anymore. I need to find some way to control my nausea or I'm going to lose my job, alienate my family and possibly cause actual harm to my person.

This is, without question, the worst morning sickness of my life. I am nauseated every minute of every day, with incessant waves of that disgusting salivation, shakes and cold forehead sweat that normally precedes the relief of actual puking but in my case lead to...nothing. I cannot vomit, even when I really try, probably because, within ten minutes of eating anything substantive, my stomach rebels utterly and I have to...there just isn't a good way to put this...maybe "find a restroom." Quickly. Is that delicate enough?

I have lost six pounds in two weeks, and now find myself scraping up against the lower border of the "Healthy" BMI. If I were actually throwing up, I'm pretty sure this would qualify as hyperemesis. But without the emesis, is it something to worry about or do I just wait it out? I was so distracted by that beautiful heartbeat that I forgot to bring up the subject with the new RNP on Tuesday, and I've Googled enough to know that avoiding dehydration is the primary concern, so I'm sipping warm water and trying not to let the smell of it nauseate me further. (I'm not kidding: warm water is on my no-smell list, along with my children's hair, the carpet in the elevator at work, any flower, any cleaning product, any food item and, finally, my own breath, which is suddenly horrible.)

I am currenty subsisting on an around-the clock trickle of Wheat Thins, mini-pretzels and dry toast. Anything with sugar, acid or fat causes an almost immediate reaction. Those foods that helped me in my prior pregnancies are no longer tolerable--lemonade, applesauce, cheese, eggs and anything else that sounds even marginally appetizing during those fleeting moments of hunger just evacuates immediately.

I have been unable to concentrate at work and have had to take off early or come in late every day this week. With my boss out and the resulting avalanche of extra work, I am just getting buried and don't have enough strength to even start scratching out an air hole. I cannot play with the kids or help around the house. All I can do is lie on my side and pant shallowly, waiting for relief. Even typing this post has exacerbated the queasiness.

If there's ANYTHING--anything at all--that worked for you, I fervently hope that you will share it. I am desperate and need to find some way to get back to a functional state.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Endings and beginnings

The memorial for my boss's son was held last night. It was a beautiful tribute to a beatiful child, full of remembrances and joy. The slideshow was the hardest part--happy family pictures of a little boy running gleefully at the edge of the surf, or playing with his toys, or smiling as he pinned his little brother in a bearhug. I cannot imagine how his parents are surviving as well as they are, but they seem surprisingly calm, and able to reflect on how much happiness he brought them instead of the enormous pain of his loss.

. . .

This morning we headed to my first OB appointment, where a new RNP talked with me about diagnostic testing options, finding a replacement for my OB and other routine stuff, while I silently panicked, awaiting the ultrasound. But when it came...my god, I had forgotten how amazing it can be. One sac, one embryo, one flickering heartbeat. I cried a bit, the grinding nausea completely silent for the first moment in two weeks.

It seems so real now.

Wednesday, March 09, 2011

Pushing through

You have all been so supportive. I know my boss would be mind-boggled to know that there are strangers on the internet keeping him and his family in their thoughts. They are doing as well as can be expected with strong characters and stronger pharmaceuticals.

I am pushing through, managing, but wishing for a thicker skin and some kind of emotional distance. Co-workers shouldn't have to prop me up, for heaven's sake. The pregnancy (ack--how forward that word sounds) may have something to do with it: in addition to the insomnia of twenty-four-hour worry, I'm up all night with nausea as well, and sleep deprivation makes me unreasonably emotional. (Speaking of the nausea, yes, it is reassuring, but it is also hideously intense, much worse than I recall with Josh. Bad enough to make me come home from work early, and that's something I didn't even do when I had pneumonia. I would not take it amiss if the nausea eased up a bit. I also would not mind if my blood pressure picked itself up off the basement floor and climbed back into the zone where I don't faint when I rise from a chair or get out of bed.)

Anyway, thank you again for the touching comments. I cry every time I read one.

Saturday, March 05, 2011

...and yet it's still spinning

Dragging mysef through the motions of our day, trying not to weep again. The uncontrolled shuddering seems to have passed, so at least I only look half-mad, with my bloodshot eyes and wild hair. The kids are mercifully oblivious to my state of mind and want their breakfast, are excited about gymnastics class. They thought it was odd that I came in and woke them up twice in the night, but since they don't realize I was checking to reassure myself that they hadn't stopped breathing, it didn't worry them.

I hope my boss and his wife find it in them to get through this together. I hope they find a way not to blame themselves, because they shouldn't--they could not have known. Their younger son is old enough to feel the loss but not quite old enough to understand it, and I keep thinking of the hurt he will go through, and the hurt he will cause, when he asks, over and over, where his brother is and when he's coming back.

It seems deeply unimportant now, but my second beta was adequate. I would trade it in an instant if it could undo this horrible loss.

Friday, March 04, 2011

The world should stop now

My boss's sweet, precocious not-quite-six-year-old son died in his sleep last night without warning. It does not seem possible. The world should stop.

Thursday, March 03, 2011

I remember this

Nausea. Horrible, horrible nausea.

Hallelujah.

Beta #2 results not in yet. Maybe tomorrow morning.

Wednesday, March 02, 2011

Good

The suspense was agonizing. Assumed my RNP was holding off on delivering bad news, but I just got the call. Beta #1, 22 DPO: 4538. According to Betabase, this is better than the median, if far from the maximum.

Beta #2 tomorrow, with results on Friday. (If I survive this sickening rush of adrenaline.)

Just waiting

First blood draw last night; expecting results today. Meanwhile, I am sore, a little nauseated and deeply, deeply tired. Enough to keep my hopes up.