The Future Queen and I: What Kate & I Have in Common (Part 4)

Being completely honest, before I go any further in this series I have to let you know that I do not remember everything perfectly.  My first pregnancy was over ten years ago, and the good Lord granted me a certain degree of “amnesia” to help me deal with it.  Otherwise, there is no way on His green earth that I would have gone through it again – and yes, spoiler alert, my baby and I did survive the first one, and I went on to have a second one, with virtually the same experience yet again.

I tell you this so that you will understand that I know I’m leaving out big parts of my story, and possibly getting some things out of order.  I know this because as I’m posting it on my blog, I have friends and family who were by my side during it all now reminding me of some things that I had totally forgotten – some good and some bad.  I truly wish I had written it all down, kept a diary of it all.  Hindsight is 20-20, as they say.  At the time all of this was going on, though, I just wanted to survive it and keep my baby alive.  That is all I could think about, and some days I couldn’t even think about that.

But back to the story:  Once I arrived home from my week in the hospital, I settled into bed with my Zofran pump and IV fluids.  Again, these measures were not alleviating the constant nausea, nor were they completely controlling the vomiting.  However, they were keeping my baby and me alive in that they helped to decrease the vomiting episodes to less than 20 times per day.

The weight loss continued.  I was losing an average of 1 to 2 pounds per week now.  I was still unable to keep anything down, including water.  Friends and family were bringing me every drink under the sun in the hopes that we’d discover something that would stay down.  We really wanted to be able to get off the IV fluids.  Being hooked up to the IV 24/7 was completely debilitating, physically, mentally, and emotionally.  But then again, so was being nauseated 24/7. 

Eventually we found that I could tolerate citrus Gatorade better than anything.  Did you know that it is the most difficult flavor of Gatorade to find?  My husband became the ultimate hunter/gatherer of citrus Gatorade, though, and kept me stocked up.  However, the strange thing is that even when I was eventually (many weeks into the pregnancy) able to keep down a significant amount of this liquid, it was still never enough to keep me from becoming dehydrated within 30 minutes if the IV fluids were removed (this strange thing has never been explained).  Therefore, I continued with the IV fluids and the Zofran drug pump throughout the rest of my pregnancy.  This means anytime I left the house, which was pretty much only for doctor’s appointments from this point on (except for a couple of cases which I’ll talk about later), it involved traveling with the wonderful IV pole and fluid pouch and wearing the lovely Zofran drug pump like a fanny pack around my waist.  Stylish, but it has yet to catch on with the hipster pregnancy set. 

Once I had settled in after the first hospital visit, the cycle persisted, but at a lesser rate for the most part.  I was hospitalized a couple more times for dehydration before we worked out the best ratio of everything, though.  When I was home, I was bedridden due to the extreme nausea, fatigue, and dizziness.  Since James and my mother both worked, I was often alone for long hours during the day.  I rarely had to get up to go to the bathroom because I stayed on the verge of dehydration, even with the IV.  Frankly, there just wasn’t anything left to eliminate that way.  However, when I did go I had to use ketone sticks to check my urine.  If the “pH” of my urine reached dangerous levels, this would mean that I was not obtaining enough fluids.  As long as we kept the IV fluids going, this stayed at an acceptable level.  If the IV was removed, or even slowed down too far, this marker would immediately show dangerous levels of “ketones” in my urine, and we would have to do a “bolus” of IV fluids, or I would have to make a trip back to the hospital to get it all balanced again.

So, I stayed in bed for hours on end.  For the first couple of weeks I didn’t have a television or computer in my bedroom to keep me occupied, and I really didn’t care because I was still too weak to even sit up or keep my eyes open for long.  Instead, we kept the CD of “Pachelbel Canon in D with Ocean Sounds” playing over and over and over all day long to keep me as relaxed as possible.  Weird, yes, but it worked somehow.  And, I prayed…a lot.  If I was awake, I was praying, or in some cases, crying out loud to God.

And He was with me.  There was a book that I had that I had purchased on that very first week after I found out I was pregnant.  It was called “For This Child I Prayed” by Stormie Omartian.  (This book is pictured below and available at:   http://stormieomartian.com/product_details.html?product_name=.Christmas+Special.%3Cbr%3E%3Cbr%3EItem+M06-CHLD-GB%3Cbr%3E%3Cbr%3EFOR+THIS+CHILD+I+PRAYED%3Cbr%3E)  The prayers and the pictures were incredibly soothing to me, and whenever I was able, I read and prayed the words of this book for my baby over and over and over, almost every day throughout my pregnancy.  It brought me such comfort, and I knew, deep down in my soul that the Lord was looking after my baby.  I am being completely honest with you here when I tell you that I had a very deep peace about this.  I believed whole-heartedly that this baby would be born strong and healthy.  After what had happened to me just before I found out I was pregnant (read Part 1), I knew that God had a PURPOSE for this child, and was looking after him (or her – I didn’t know which at the time).  Honestly, I believed the baby would survive, but I wasn’t sure that I would.

 

However, even with the calm I was experiencing for my child, it did not prevent worry and despair and depression from creeping in from time to time.  Actually most days I felt some form of mental and emotional anguish.  Again, there was no explanation offered at this point for what was happening.  Though my doctor was very kind, and was very concerned, I still felt that he was questioning my sanity a bit.  Some of the medical workers I was around actually treated me like it was my fault, and I could not understand this.  I knew that this was completely out of my control – so why would anyone treat me this way when I was suffering so much and still worried about the overall health of my baby?

I continued going to see my doctor every week at this point.  Every week we’d go through the excruciating process of getting me ready to go out with the drug pump and IV, and drive the 30 minutes to the doctor’s office, stopping for me to throw up a couple of times along the way, usually.  Every week I would step on the scale and it would show a weight loss of at least one or two pounds.  And every week I’d be on pins and needles until I heard my baby’s heartbeat once again.  And every week my doctor would try to reassure me, but at the same time he would almost scold me, telling me that I really needed to drink and try to eat more.  I explained again, in tears, that I could not – that I was drinking and drinking tons of citrus Gatorade, but it wouldn’t always stay down.  He would “threaten” me with the picc line for TPN (Total Parenteral Nutrition) again.  But again, I tried to explain, I was seriously doing the best I could – why couldn’t they understand it?  I felt like a crazy person.

One day James arranged to have wireless internet connection installed for me, so I could at least surf the internet and email people from my bed.  He also installed a television in our bedroom.  How sadistic was it that I watched the Food Channel obsessively throughout my pregnancy once I was able to hold my head up?  Rachel Ray and Paula Deen became my go to girls!  I couldn’t eat or stand the smell of food, but I got to where I could at least watch.  Sick, I tell you.

I began searching the internet for an explanation of my symptoms.  Surely to goodness I wasn’t the only woman alive going through this, was I?  And you know what?  I soon found that I wasn’t.  However, what I found nearly sent me into a tailspin of deeper despair and emotional upheaval.

One day while searching online, I found a website in which women were describing symptoms very similar to mine during their pregnancies.  They were posting on a webpage’s “chat boards” about their experiences.  These women were, like me, searching for answers and hoping to find some encouragement, and some reassurance that they were not “crazy”, and that they were not to blame for this.

Their stories were brutal.  Many of these women were describing scenarios in which their doctors and everyone around them refused to accept the severity of their sickness, telling them to suck it up and deal with it.  Many described doctors and medical professionals mocking them, and husbands (abusive husbands, in my opinion) forcing them to continue to wait on them hand and foot, cooking and cleaning and performing “wifely duties” even as they were wasting away before their eyes.  Many of these women confessed to secretly having an abortion, and then telling everyone around them that they had miscarried.  The pain they were living with was almost unbearable.   My heart began breaking.  I spent hours in bed for days, reading their stories, weeping endlessly. 

James became very worried when I shared these stories with him and he saw how it was affecting me.  However, I reassured him that this was what I needed to hear.  Even though my heart broke for these women, and especially for these unborn children, I knew now that I was not crazy and not alone.  I was also completely overwhelmed when I understood the level of support and encouragement I had already been receiving from my loved ones compared to so many of these women.  And, I learned there was actually a name for this condition:  Hyperemesis Gravidarum.   There they were.  There were the two words that proved that this was not “all in my head.”  I was not crazy.  I felt like I could breathe again.

I devoured every bit of information I could about HG.  I was disturbed to find out that not much was known about it in the United States, however Canada and Great Britain had both performed studies on the condition.  At that time, they were reporting that they believed that .02 percent of all pregnancies were sufferers of HG.  And of this percentage, unbelievably, 98% ended in miscarriage or abortion.

This truly did me in.  I could not imagine…this baby, this child that I had prayed and prayed for…I could not imagine giving up and aborting him or her!  However, I realized at this point that I had support, and I had IV fluids and a Zofran drug pump, helping me to survive this.  I was able to stay in bed all day because I had loved ones who loved me and who wanted to take care of me, and a doctor who was willing to try every treatment under the sun.  No one was mocking me, no one was forcing me to get up and cook or clean or do anything else.  They were just there – helping me, praying for the baby and me, and literally willing to do anything to help me survive.  And most of all, I had faith.  I was truly blessed.  I could not imagine going through this hell wearing the shoes of some of these other women whose stories were tearing me apart.  I don’t believe I would have resorted to abortion, though I do not judge those who did AT ALL.  It is not my place to do so.  I simply ache for them.  But, on the other hand, I also don’t believe that I would have been alive by this point without all of the care and support and faith I had been given.

The next time I went to see my physician, I took many of these articles on HG with me to show him.  He had heard of it, and he agreed that this was what I was suffering from.  I believe that he had already determined that, but probably did not share it with me for the very reason that he had come to know me so well, and he knew I would immediately go and read everything I could about it – which would only serve to upset me even more.  Yes, that’s true, and I forgave him for that.   However, even though it was painful to read these stories, I cannot adequately describe the relief I felt at knowing there was a name for this condition, and that it was not my fault (even though the cause is still unknown). 

Still losing weight at this point, my doctor decided to send me to a perinatologist - a physician who specializes in high risk pregnancies - for a consultation.   I was excited about going to see someone who might have more knowledge about this condition, and perhaps some suggestions for controlling it and ensuring a healthier pregnancy.  At this point I was existing on IV fluids and citrus Gatorade, and unable to keep down the pre-natal vitamins.  If you have HG, I recommend that you do NOT read all of the books and articles on how to have a “healthy pregnancy.”  It will only serve to throw you further into despair at how you are unable to do the things that we all know you need to do when you’re pregnant – like eat healthful foods, exercise, take your vitamins, etc… I was hoping for some more answers.

Little did I know that when I walked into the office of that perinatologist, I would be walking into the pit of hell…

(To be continued…)

The Future Queen and I: What Kate & I Have in Common (Part Two)

PART TWO  (If you missed Part One of this "saga" (yesterday's blog post), you can read it here: http://tronworld.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-future-queen-and-i-what-kate-i-have.html ) :

After returning home that evening from the emotionally exhausting trip to and from Nashville, l fell into bed for a deep sleep.  I woke up the very next morning, still feeling exhausted, but my husband and I had plans to go to a seminar at church.  I remember I didn’t feel like eating that morning, but I drank some orange juice, which I regretted for the next few hours.  I had a horrible burning sensation in my stomach and chest.  I had never experienced heartburn before, but I imagined this was what it would feel like.

By the end of the seminar, I was hungry, yet feeling nauseated, had “heartburn”, and was extremely tired.  I asked James to pull into a drug store and go grab me some crackers and some anti-acid medication….and then, I had an epiphany.  I said, “And um, would you pick up a pregnancy test, too?”  James looked at me like I had just grown two heads, and then said, “You know, if you need those first two items, I don’t really think there’s a need to get the third!”  But, he came back with not just one, but two tests.

We were both nervous, and couldn’t even talk about the possibility of what might be happening.  Wasn’t it less than 24 hours ago that I was pulled over in a parking lot, sobbing and praying about wanting to begin a family?  Could it really be?

Even though home was less than a thirty minute drive away, we were both too anxious to wait another minute.  We passed by the road turning off to the home of some close friends who lived along the way, and decided to make a “pit stop.”  They were surprised to see us, but welcomed us in.  I excused myself to their powder room, and emerged a few minutes later with an incredulous look on my face.  James knew immediately what was going on. 

It was positive.

No way!  This couldn’t be!  Could it?  There was no possible way!  We had not been “trying” for long, really.  We wanted this, but we weren’t really ready, were we?  I mean, I had not read even one “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” book, ever!

But it was real!  We confirmed it a few hours later with the second test, and then Monday morning I scheduled a visit to the OB/Gyn to officially confirm it.  It was really real!  I was just barely four months pregnant for the first time!

Dazed and confused, I pretty much recall this time as a “foggy time.”  I was in a state of bliss and immediately began reading everything I could get my hands on about pregnancy and babies.  I was so excited!  Of course I had to make a couple of trips to the local “baby superstores” to begin making lists, and buying baby nursery decorating books!  Oh, and I had to start those pre-natal vitamins, and make sure that I was eating the healthiest of health foods and walking every single day!

I had gained some weight recently, and was the heaviest I had ever weighed in my life at that point, so I was concerned about gaining too much weight.  Diabetes runs in my family, so I was a little anxious that if I gained too much I might be at risk for gestational diabetes, or have a higher birth weight baby, which I had been reading was not healthy for the baby and could lead to many health problems for it later, if not sooner, in life.  These were some of the concerns that were running through my mind that very first week.

We also had a vacation planned to Hilton Head Island that week.  The plan was that I would be going down with my parents, my sister, her husband, and two children early in the week, and James would join us a couple days later after he finished some projects at work.  We had delayed going by one day so that I could make the trip to the doctor, but once that was done and we had shared the news with the rest of the family, we were on our way.  On the drive down, however, I found myself feeling extremely sick.  We attributed it to some pregnancy nausea exacerbated by the winding roads on the “shortcuts” my dad insisted on taking.  I had to lie down in the car the entire way, and once we arrived at the beach, the “motion sickness” never went away.  Oh, and the “heartburn” persisted, which was painfully annoying. 

I tried to walk on the beach some that week.  Desperately trying to distract myself from the nausea, I busied myself by shopping in some of the beautiful baby stores on the island and making a few purchases of generally useless but irresistible baby items such as books, outfits, and bibs that cost entirely too much.  But, it was my first pregnancy, our first child.  I was determined that everything would be “practically perfect” in every way.  If only this blasted nausea would go away!  We were sure it would.  My mamaw, mother, and sister had all experienced pretty horrific “morning sickness,” but it had subsided within a few weeks, they assured me. 

The trip to Hilton Head was soon over, but the trip home was even worse than the drive down.  A couple days later at home, I threw up for the first time.  I remember thinking, “Oh no…and so it begins!”  I did feel a sense of temporary relief after throwing up.  However, this was extremely short-lived.  The nausea came back with a vengeance only a few minutes later, and stayed.  The cycle had begun:  vomiting, a few minutes of relief, and then the return of severe nausea, heartburn, and even dizziness settling in until I finally vomited again.  I was throwing up several times a day at this point, and even during the night.  So much for so-called “morning” sickness!

The sixth week of pregnancy James and I were scheduled to take a dream vacation to California.  James planned to attend some legal seminars for a few days with some attorney friends, and I was to accompany them.  We would be staying at some lavish resorts in San Francisco, Carmel, and all along the coast, and I would get to spend my time shopping, going to spas, and sight-seeing to my heart’s content.  I had been looking forward to this for such a long time!

However, by the day we were scheduled to leave, we knew that there was no way I could make this trip.  We knew that my “morning sickness” was something a little out of the ordinary, but we still thought at this point that we’d find a way to manage it and it would get better within a few weeks.  However, I was definitely in no condition to make the flight or enjoy the special vacation we had planned.

James, who had been waiting on me hand and foot, however, had spent a lot of money on the reservations for this trip and on the legal seminars he would attend.  He also needed the continuing legal education credits he would earn.  So, we decided that he would go without me.  I was incredibly sad, but I had my parents, sister, and some friends who would check in on me from time to time.

James on the dream vacation, without me.

The view from what was to have been "my room" at one of the Cali resorts.

 

By this time, the “morning sickness,” which was lasting all day and all night, was becoming ridiculous.  To add insult to injury, I became sick with the worst sinus infection and case of bronchitis I had ever experienced in my life.  While I lay in my bed, puking my guts out constantly and struggling to breathe, James was sending me pictures of himself and his lawyer friends at these incredible resorts, five-star hotels, and fabulous restaurants on the gorgeous West Coast, living it up.  I wanted to die, literally.  I felt that bad and that sorry for myself at that time.  Despite the fact that I was experiencing a deep joy like nothing I had ever known with the knowledge that I would be holding our baby by the end of the year, I was also the most miserable I had ever been in my entire life. 

I remember that week was very dark, very lonely, and VERY scary.  I could do nothing but lie in bed, day and night.  I remember I listened to the soothing sounds of a CD of Pachelbel Canon in D with ocean and seagull sounds mixed in, over and over and over.  It was almost hypnotic, and it helped me to relax a little as it lulled me in and out of a very restless sleep.  I kind of remember people coming in and out of the house to check on me from time to time that week, bringing me drinks and food which I could not keep down.  I remember praying for my baby, begging God to please protect my child even though I was sorely inadequate and apparently too “defective” to do so myself.  I remember alternating between feelings of hope and hopelessness, guilt and anger, confusion and depression.  And I remember continuously drifting in and out of semi-consciousness.  It was like a fog, some kind of crazy dream – but the dream was becoming a nightmare.

When James returned home, he was distraught to find me so sick.  It was obvious to him how much my condition had deteriorated after being gone a week, and I could see in his eyes how worried he truly was.  At this point, I was losing weight rapidly, and I couldn’t keep anything down, even water.  Well-meaning people kept advising me to “eat crackers” and “drink ginger ale” and trust me, I had tried everything.  But nothing, absolutely nothing, would stay down.  We were beginning to become really concerned about the baby’s development and how it might be affected due to my inability to provide adequate nutrition. 

A few days later, the beginning of week seven of the pregnancy, James came home from work to find me talking out of my head.  I couldn’t speak well, and when I did nothing coming out of my mouth was making sense.  I was wild-eyed, freezing, twisting my hair into knots, and scratching my skin to pieces.  Something was wrong, horribly wrong. 

James called the doctor and was told to immediately bring me to his office.  Once the doctor saw me, he admitted me to the hospital immediately.  I was almost completely dehydrated.   I had nothing in me, and had lost 26 pounds since they had seen me less than two weeks before.   Before I could even realize what was going on, they began pumping fluid into my veins intravenously and trying to get my blood pressure and heart rate normalized again.  All of this craziness was going on, I had been unable to keep food or liquids down for days, and yet I continued to dry heave – over and over and over again.   The severe nausea and intense contractions of my digestive system never subsided and I was not feeling any relief - not even for a moment.  It was as if my body was violently trying to purge itself of something foreign.  What was going on?  Little did we know that this was only the beginning…

(To be continued in Part 3:  http://tronworld.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-future-queen-and-i-what-kate-i-have_10.html )