Clover Lane

I had my weekly OB appointment on Monday and was sent for a routine non-stress test to the hospital because another patient was already using the monitor in the office.  (My doctor's office is connected to the hospital so it wasn't a big deal.)

I walked into the maternity floor and sat in the room I was supposed to be in, and a nice nurse came and set me all up, and then left me alone...and my mind started racing.

Last week on this blog I talked about how much I love having babies...I love the hospital stay, the smell of the sheets, the excitement, the visitors, everything about it.  It's all true.  But that day, actually BEING there, in the hospital, on the floor where I'll soon be staying-and maybe it was just my state of mind at the time (anxious, worn down from parenting five children 24/7 all summer long, and very very uncomfortably pregnant) I began to feel the opposite.  I had a bit of a brain break-down.

Like this is REAL.  I'm really really having a baby.  (I didn't just eat a whole watermelon like it looks like above!)  This time, I didn't just remember the good stuff...that seemed to all vanish.  The smell, sights and sounds brought back all of it...the hard stuff too.  The frightening physical pain towards the end of labor that there is no preparation for (no matter how many times you've experienced it!), the overwhelming love I feel when that baby is born but that is soon followed by the same dose of overwhelming responsibility, that quiet time when everyone leaves to go home after the baby is born-Jeff to the kids at home-and I am left bone-tired and in bed (and yes, in love with the bundle in my arms) and with quiet that leads me to think, "Holy Moley, can I handle all this?  What was I thinking 9 months ago?  I'm just a kid, I can't take this baby home! They shouldn't let me! And all the ones at home that still need me?  I can't do this!"  No matter if this was one baby or six (!) I know those teary feelings, that weight on my shoulders, will come again.  I will feel very, very vulnerable.  I will feel self-doubt.  I will feel scared.  Scared to death.

And for a minute that day, I thought, hooked up to those monitors the other day, watching the little heart beat go up and down, "Maybe I'm OK with just staying like this-hugely pregnant-forever.  This just might be easier."

But staying stagnantly, endlessly pregnant is not really an option, nor do I really want that. (God, no!) But moving forward requires so much of me, and the reality of it all is enough to make me, for a moment, let my mind choose to travel over the hard stuff.

My nurse came back and unhooked me, and everything with that sweet little baby looked good.  And I got myself up out of that chair (no easy task) and walked (waddled?) my way out of the hospital.  I got in my mini-van and drove home and fixed lunches, and swept the floor, and refereed arguments and answered endless questions and drove someone to a practice.  I had to stop entertaining my doubts, my fears, my anxiety, but was almost grateful that I had the quiet time to do it-to get it all out of my system.

This is so NOT a nursery reveal, I just couldn't resist that title.

When our first was born 18 years ago (18!) we lived on the bottom floor of a little duplex-technically one bedroom but there was a large back room I set up for him before he was born.  It was part of an addition, and hence it was freeezing or sweltering, and also had an entrance door into it but my naive self thought it would work out well.  Then he was born, and I couldn't imagine him sleeping farther than 2 feet from me, and what if someone stole him, or what if he was too cold or hot-I would never ever leave him to sleep in such a miserable room, what was I thinking?  He slept in our room.

Fast forward a year, and I was pregnant with our second.  We had just bought a 3 bedroom house and with one going on two children, we had enough rooms for each child to have their own.  I did her nursery in navy and white and yellow-nice and neutral.  I painted the walls myself, copying the print of a wallpaper I could never afford, and had the cheapest all white bedding I could find-with a few garage sale finds it turned out pretty cute.  She slept in there half a dozen times because she refused (and I mean refused!) to sleep without a body laying next to her.  She was the lightest sleeper ever and I thought it was all my fault.  I read books and books and tried different things all to no avail.  What a waste of time, it's the way she was wired.  But the nursery was cute, it really wasand it sat there, gathering dust.

When I was pregnant with my third we moved once again to a 3 bedroom house....2 tiny bedrooms, one without a closet, and a nice sized master bedroom.  We shoved the crib in Isaac's tiny room after Matt was born, and that worked well...the "boy's room".  He actually slept in his crib after a few weeks, that sweet little best baby ever.  It was heaven.

When our fourth, was born, we still lived in that same house, so I set up his crib in our room.  He slept on my chest for a good four or more months because of his terrible colic.  He never ever napped in his whole life.  Except in his sling which I wore from sun-up till sun-down.  I collapsed into bed with him every night, my only reprieve from his constant stomach trouble and we both slept soundly, totally exhausted.  Shouldn't have even set up the crib with that one.

We live where we do now when our fifth was born.  We have four bedrooms.  I went a little psycho when I was pregnant with our fifth, thinking and rethinking all different scenarios depending on the sex of the baby, of who would share with who and how that would work so actual sleep could happen for all.  I switched all their rooms around once only to have changed my mind one week later and put it all back.  I contracted an architect to draw up plans for an addition.  I drove everyone crazy, including myself.  But then Patrick was born and I decided for the present time he would share with Isaac-youngest and oldest.  He did sleep in his crib-the most use out of that crib out of them all-at least for naps, because Isaac was at school and it was nice and quiet.  But at night, I couldn't very well put him to bed with a teenager who needed to study till 10 or 11, so he slept in...you guessed it...our room.

Where he still is.  But won't remain.  Or maybe he will.  I don't care anymore, honestly.

We are plum out of room by today's standards.  Yes, Isaac is going off to college, but he will come home again and again and it's not like we can pitch a tent for him in the backyard after we sell his (tiny) room to the highest bidder.  It will remain his room, although I promised it to the next oldest boy in line for sleeping purposes only when Isaac is gone-there is to be no official "moving in".

The baby will share a room with us.  I'm under no illusion anymore.  Pretty wallpaper, pastel colors, expensive catalog fixings don't determine how well babies or parents sleep.  I sleep best close to my babies-I know that.  Mix some new mother anxiety in with every-2-hour-around-the-clock-feedings and my bed is where we sleep best.

So here's my nursery and I love it.  I love it more than ever because after having five children I feel so settled in knowing what I want, and what I need and how I function as a new mom.  No crazy planning or shopping or moving rooms around.  Now don't get me wrong-I don't mind a good old stroll, ooohing and ahhing, through a  Pottery Barn Kids catalog, but I laugh a little when I look at the photos.  It's SO not what having a baby is about. I know that now more than ever.

My good very talented friend Jane, revamped my old bassinet for me-I had a chance to make it my own- she stitched it all together and I now consider it an heirloom to hand down to my children and grandchildren.  Abbey helped me choose the fabrics after we scrubbed it all up. I love its simplicity. My changing table has every item of clothing and all the supplies I think I will need for awhile at least.

Now we just patiently wait for our sweet little one.

There is nothing like the smell of Dreft.  I washed all the blankets and diapers and tiny baby clothes and then stuck my nose in the piles again and again, hoping that lovely scent would induce labor. I'm kidding about that part...as much as I am done with being uncomfortable, I know how important it is to have a fully cooked baby.

I have a pile started for my bag to the hospital but it's been four years and I feel like I am forgetting things.  I am still nervous after five births.  Maybe it's because I have a new doctor now, or have a longer drive to the hospital, or just know what to expect so know that nerves are going to be part of it.  I hope and pray it all goes smoothly and there are no glitches.  This is my last time to experience it-the excitement of the labor pains beginning, the overwhelming pain, and then the joy of meeting our new baby and I want to savor every minute.

I made a few of the boys tuck this big round watermelon I brought home from the grocery store under their shirts to have a little more understanding of what I feel like every day...and then I made them up pick up their shoes.  We all had a good laugh and I could see a little light bulb go off in their heads-that was enough for me-it has to be because of course the lesson wore off before the day was done.

I am trying to enjoy these last days of my pregnancy but I'm also looking forward to having my energy back and being able to breathe, eat, sleep and move.  I usually start to panic about now, when all that important stuff I just mentioned takes a nose dive.  I think of all I have to do (especially this summer with Isaac going off to college, and the kids starting school all in the same week as my due date!) and wonder how I will get it all finished and keep pace with the ordinary days as well.  It seems like I am plum tuckered out by noon every day and that's just not going to cut it.

I am feeling so much better...I still have some ickiness in the late afternoon and evening-nothing compared to what it was-more just like a loss of appetite.  I'd rather just not be around food then, which is making dinners really really lame around here.  I couldn't believe how many comments and emails I got from fellow-hyperemesis sufferers and honestly, I came away feeling so lucky and grateful because compared to some stories I feel like I had it easy.

I am so grateful and so happy for this new little life.  Every baby is just an incredible miracle from start to finish.  The little kicks-whenever I feel anxiety about the pregnancy, he/she seems to know and give me a little sign everything is fine.  I make sure to say thank you each time.

 I wrote this post when I was in the midst of hyperemesis with my sixth---because even then I knew that once I felt better (like I do now-sometime between the 15th and 20th week), I'd want to just get on with my pregnancy and forget those hard months.  I apologize again for the length, and a "downer" post.  But I felt I had to share my story, just so people could understand, and those women who have had, or do have hyperemesis, and the husbands and children who are experiencing the incredible strain of it also, can know that they are not alone.

I wish I could offer more than my story-I wish I could tell of a cure, or of a new discovery or research.  I hope one day that will be a possibility!
Hyperemesis gravidarum is a very misunderstood sickness and it is hard to explain (without writing a way too long post like this) and therefore can be a very lonely, scary, frustrating illness to have.  I want to say this right now though: The most important part of this entire post is the last paragraph.

When I was about 5 weeks pregnant with my first, I started throwing up and feeling extremely nauseated.  Morning sickness, right?  That's what everyone told me.  I was so nauseated that I couldn't eat or drink anything.  Picture the flu, the moment you are going to throw up-just that extreme, "it's coming up", panicked nausea-24 hours a day.  It does not come in spurts, or waves or at different time, it is ever present.  I couldn't put food in my mouth, look at food, smell food, even water-I could be gagging it up before it went down my throat.  I grew weaker and weaker and lost weight quickly.

I don't remember if I called the doctor on my own but I do remember that I had to have someone drive me to the office.  Dehydration and malnutrition also cause an ability to concentrate, extreme muscle weakness, dizziness, and a feeling of being "out of it".  There is no way I could have driven myself.  Finally there, the doctor diagnosed me with hyperemesis and I stayed two nights in the hospital.

I was told my main goal was to avoid ketones in my urine-a danger to the baby and the first thing that happens after prolonged dehydration.  I had to go back weekly to test for these.  Back then (this is '93) I don't think there was any medication they could have given me.  (More on that later.)  So I laid in bed for ten weeks.  I managed to eat the tiniest amount of calories and drink enough water to sometimes pass, sometimes fail those ketone tests, but I was lucky in that I managed to never need an IV again.  Sleep was my only comfort.  I would stuff a pillow under my stomach because it would hurt so badly (from not having any food in it and from throwing up) and will myself to sleep like that every night.  I lost 15 pounds by the end of those 2 1/2 months.

Another thing that hyperemesis does is cause your sense of smell to go off the wall crazy-I know this is common in the first trimester but it seemed so out-of-this world intensified.  Picture every smell exaggerated 10 times over.  If my poor hungry husband made himself a frozen pizza it would just kill me...for me it was like someone holding a rag soaked with a concoction of 100's of chemicals over my face.  It would cause my nausea to hit the roof.  I would beg him not to cook anything, not to open the fridge, not to get near me-not to even walk through the door of the bedroom.  If the outside door opened I could smell the air-it smelled terrible to me.  I swear I could tell you what the neighbors were cooking three doors down.  When you have hyperemesis, you just want a giant bubble around you-you can't stand the smell of anyone or anything.

At around 14-15 weeks the intensity began to fade for me-I was still sick but the weight loss and extreme nausea began to fade slowly.  Some women who have this have it the entire pregnancy. (Here is what 9 months of hyperemesis is like.) Because of that (the body can only starve so long) these women are sometimes hospitalized throughout, have a torn esophagus from throwing up so much, feeding tubes and constant IV's with a concoction of medications dripping into them.

I switched to a midwife for my next pregnancies and she knew my history and she was incredibly attentive from the start.  Although I tested positive often from ketones in my other pregnancies in those first weeks, I never needed to be hospitalized or needed IV's.  (One of the crappiest things about hyperemesis is that once you get to a certain dehydration level it is super hard to recover from it-and every symptom just gets worse and worse-it is a vicious cycle-it needs to be diagnosed early on.)  It was very difficult  to care for my younger children and by pure will and an extremely helpful and understanding husband we made it through 10 or so weeks-those 10 weeks feel like 10 years when you have hyperemesis.  The whole family pays a price when it comes to hyperemesis.  It puts enormous stress on the family.

With my 5th child, I really felt the sickness fell into the category of severe morning sickness, not hyperemesis-there was a marked difference and although I felt very sick I could function day to day. I never wanted to eat, but felt better when I did.  I was able to make basic meals for my family
sometimes, and function-go outside, drive, get dressed every day, put some food into my mouth.

I will be honest and tell you that one of the very frustrating things about having hyperemesis is that it is misunderstood.  It has nothing to do with wanting to gain weight or not-purely biological, not one bit psychological. "Try eating crackers, or popsicles, or ginger or Gatorade, SeaBands, B6..."  or "Oh yeah, I was sick too, but when I ate, or threw up I felt so much better"  when you hear these things, even though you know it's meant to be helpful, it sometimes feels lonelier and more frustrating when you suffer from hyperemesis. Nothing makes you feel better when you have hyperemesis-there is no food that sounds good, there is no food that does not make you feel nauseated, there is no food that does not take incredible will power and work to just chew and swallow...or even look at!  (Which makes it so frustrating when you can't keep it down!)  You can not even think of food without puking or wanting to puke.  If you do manage to eat a certain food, once you eat it, you almost never want it again.  Even this could be manageable for one or two weeks but any more than that, your body just gets more and more depleted and there are so many side effects because of that.

Here is a chart I found that I think helps explain the difference between morning sickness and hyperemesis.

The inability to eat and drink and nourish yourself, to care for your family, being in pain and feeling miserable 24/7, unable to go out into the world and function-just doing little "daily life things" takes enormous will and effort, absolutely takes it tolls after weeks and weeks.  The fear of this illness not ending, watching the life you love unfold from the couch while you can't participate is emotionally draining too.  There are days when it was so hard to get out of bed-days when I thought, "I can't do this anymore-I can't struggle through every hour feeling so physically sick and miserable every minute for one more long day."  But I did-because I had to for the sake of my kids and this beautiful child growing inside of me.  And I prayed a A LOT.  I prayed that I would have the strength I needed physically, and I prayed at the same time that this baby's heart would still be beating at the next ultrasound.  Oh, how I lived for those ultrasounds, as nerve-wracking as they were for me.  That beating heart gave me the strength I needed to make it-2 weeks at a time.  It meant all of this was worth it.

Here's that ultra-important last paragraph: 
I also know I am SO lucky. I know that I could have not responded to the medication that I took (depending on the severity) and ended up much worse, I know that many hyperemesis patients have this the entire pregnancy and are in incredible pain, away from their families in hospital beds. I know that I am lucky to be pregnant and 18 weeks along and finally I can feel so excited for this new little baby inside of me is sticking around.  I know that much worse things can happen in a pregnancy and I am so incredibly grateful to have this child.  I know that there are women who take pregnancy for granted and I am NOT one of them.  I have had so many friends deal with incredible losses, and friends that have had to struggle with coming to peace with never biologically bearing a child after years of heartbreaking tests and procedures.  I have friends who have been and are presently waiting endlessly and hopefully for an adoption referral.  And I have had enough hard life experiences with pregnancy loss to never ever take a baby (or even a pregnancy) for granted.  I also thought SO much-every day in fact-about moms all over the world who are sick-not sick because they have a wonderful new life growing inside them, but because they have had an awful diagnosis of disease.


Some links that might help:

Worth A Try

http://pinkstorksolutions.com/

Against using Zofran.
I have always been very leery of taking medication during pregnancy.  I was prescribed Zofran during one pregnancy and it did nothing so I immediately stopped taking it after a couple days.  With this last pregnancy, because I couldn't stop vomiting I was prescribed it again, and it worked enough to stop the vomiting, but not the nausea.  Now studies show it is not safe.

Dealing With Hyperemesis Guilt (caring for kids when pregnant)

Often people are surprised that I've had a struggles with infertility.  A mother of six?  How can that be?  After my third baby was born I experienced more than a few miscarriages before and between the last three pregnancies, ranging from week 6 to week 15.  I was diagnosed with "unexplained infertility"-in other words, after extensive testing there is no known reason for my miscarriages.