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| Tiny Dancer- 8/10/06 |
Somewhere in the haze of the first
trimester, when the nausea and vomiting were at full power, we had an
ultrasound. The doctor wanted to determine if I had a single fetus
or multiples. Women carrying twins (or more) have HG more frequently
than women carrying single babies. I already had a strong suspicion
that if I made it through this pregnancy, I wouldn't be going for
another one. I really, truly hoped for twins. Then I could get two
for the price of one and be done with the whole mess! This was not
the case for me. I had one, tiny dancing baby doing the quick-step
all over my womb with a giant head and little stubby limbs. My
boyfriend called it “Tiny Dancer” from then on. I hung on to the
image of Tiny Dancer, because it reminded me I wasn't just sick, I
was pregnant. It was
incredibly easy to forget.
Seeing the ultrasound didn't create any
warm fuzzy feelings. I think part of the pregnancy process, for most
women, is bonding to their unseen baby. I am not sure because that
wasn't part of my pregnancy. I bonded after she was out because I
was never certain that I would get a baby out of this ordeal. My
version of bonding was ensuring that I didn't hate my unborn child or
lose her or die, but not in that order. The correct order was don't
die, don't lose the baby, don't hate the baby. It is difficult to
say which of those tasks was most difficult. No fetus equals no
illness. Many women with HG feel resentment and anger towards the
developing baby. Then they feel horrible guilt because what kind of
woman hates her own child? I will tell you what kind of woman hates
her kid, one that is horribly ill and can barely function! My
strategy for dealing with this was to hate my body and my
malfunctioning reproductive system instead. If my daughter could
have been incubated in another woman, that woman would only a 1%
chance of being sick because it is the mother's biology that causes
the problem, not the fetus. It was my
body that had the problem. It was my
body that responded to pregnancy hormones as if they were poison. It
was my body that was
not suitable.
Medication for pregnant women is a
problem. Early efforts to give women something to treat nausea in
the 1950's or 1960's resulted in serious birth defects. Nothing
really had been done since then. My obstetrician explained that
making medication for pregnant women and pregnancy-related diseases
was not worth the risk to pharmaceutical companies, who were afraid
of being sued. There was no medication that was known to help the
disease that the doctor could say was safe for my baby.
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| 08/09/06. 8 weeks pregnant, don't ask me why I am smiling! |
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By the end of the first trimester we
were desperate. I was prescribed Phenergan, a medication used to
treat allergies and motion sickness. My doctor stated that there
probably wouldn't be any side effects that would harm the baby. At
any rate, there could be harm to the baby if I continued being
dehydrated and malnourished. By then I had lost 7% of my body
weight. We decided the risk was worth it because I truly believed I
might die if I continued with such severe symptoms. Blessedly, the
Phenergan eventually stopped the vomiting. After being on it for a
couple months, the nausea lessened, too but only if I took my
medication exactly on time, ate only “safe” foods and didn't over
exert myself. The only side effect for me was incredible drowsiness.
I slept so much that I lost a few months. The only thing I remember
is my boyfriend waking me up to give me medication and spoon some
food into my mouth.
By the fifth, or maybe sixth, month of
my pregnancy, the medication was working well enough that I could
eat. I could eat my “safe” foods but what was safe would
abruptly change for no good reason. Initially, breakfast was a bowl
of oatmeal. At some point, breakfast became toast. The rest of the
day I ate only chicken noodle soup. That was followed by tomato soup
with a tuna sandwich and dill pickle. Then it was a hot turkey
sandwich from a local restaurant but without the turkey. Then it was
cream of mushroom soup and goldfish crackers. I was never, ever
able to drink water. Water was instant vomit. I had to drink
Vitamin Water, which is a “enhanced water beverage.” This made
exactly no sense, but whatever, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to
die. In the seventh, eighth and ninth months of my pregnancy I could
eat more variety and was able drink tea.
I couldn't cook any of this myself,
until about month six. Until then, my boyfriend rearranged his work
schedule so that he could come home and feed me. He recalls being so
sick of cooking the same thing that it would make him feel nauseated
to open the can of soup. This is especially true for cream of
mushroom soup. He still cannot stand the stuff. Cream of mushroom
soup only comes into our house twice a year, for Thanksgiving and
Christmas Day, to make green bean casserole for my younger brother.
He has to make it himself, because it ruins our appetite.
I have not had soup or Vitamin Water,
or any other flavored water beverage in seven years. I strongly
dislike all soup or Vitamin Water. Actually, it goes beyond strongly
dislike. I have a conditioned food aversion. Wait, let me correct
that. I have conditioned food aversionS. Plural. Those food items
are so strongly associated with nausea and vomit, mere exposure to
them creates nausea. In fact, as I sit here an write, I feel
nauseated. I also have the funny feeling in my mouth that you get
before you throw up. There is a good chance I will have to take a
break before I finish writing this, to let the nausea subside. This
is actually an improvement. For the first three or four years after
my pregnancy, I couldn't even
look at
a PICTURE of soup! Hearing someone even
say
the word soup brought instant nausea. If there were ever the need to
discuss soup, we had to spell it, ESS OH YOU PEE. Vitamin Water was
much the same. I avoided the soup aisle at the grocery store, never
went down the section that had bottled beverages. There was a total
and complete ban on both those things in my home or anywhere near me.
I have been gradually exposed to soup, so I am able to look at soup
cans, smell soup and even prepare soup for my daughter. I don't
breathe while I make the soup, however. I hold my breath. I can
only smell soup from a distance, not close up. I will never, ever,
ever, Ever eat
soup. EVER.
Same goes for the Vitamin Water, except I haven't made any
improvement with Vitamin Water because there hasn't been exposure. I
will never, ever,
ever, Ever drink
flavored water, either. EVER. Well,
maybe
I'd consume those things if I were to starve again but I highly doubt
it!
And it is still not done... to be continued.
You can read:
Part 3
Part 4
