Team Green

My plan was to be on team green. You know there is the pink team, the blue team, and the green team. This seemed to be the perfect way to shield myself from the intolerant things people have to say. Contrary to what most people assumed, I was excited about the idea of a 6th boy. Really excited. Of course I thought a girl would be really fun too. I had my little buddy system with isaac and dawson, and henry and G. So Walker needed his buddy. He also needed a bunk mate. I pictured 3 bunks downstairs in our 3 bedrooms. I had plans for both upstairs bedrooms: a guest room and a study. So I knew I would be thrilled with either gender, but I also knew that most of the world was hoping I would have a girl. 

Imagine the comments either way:

Boy-

I'm so sorry

Will you try again for a girl?  

Not another boy!

There is a book on how to pick the gender of your baby you know. 

Girl

It only took you six tries

I bet you're so relieved

EVERY mother deserves both genders 

Oh phew!

Either way, people's comments, with good intentions, are hard to respond to, awkward, and sometimes kind of upsetting. Really a simple, "congratulations, that is so exciting!"  Is best. So team green would shield me from the uncomfortable situation. 

I had people question my ability to wait, and that made me want to do it more. I had people beg me not to wait, and that made me want to more. And mostly I fantasized about my last few weeks, my labor, and my big moment of anticipation, and that made me so excited. 

I had always been so anxious to find out what gender our babies were. But I didn't care at all this time. As ultrasound day was approaching I started having anxiety about actually finding out. I'm pretty good at recognizing ultrasounds by now, so I was worried I would spot the gender accidentally. I considered not having a scan at all. And I had a nightmare that the ultrasound accidentally said, "the way HE is sitting....."  

I told Dave he wasn't invited to the ultrasound. Dave loves to read people. He couldn't be there without making everyone crazy. I showed up to the ultrasound as calm as can be. I told the tech I was not interested in finding out the gender, that this was my last chance for a surprise. She respected that and had done that with one of her children. She was so sweet to have me close my eyes EVERY time she moved the wand. My heart was pounding, I was so worried my eyes would wander. I settled down about halfway through and really stopped looking for the most part, so I knew I wouldn't see. 

About 15ish minutes into the scan, the tech saw a good angle of the cord that she wanted to document. She said quietly to herself, "Let me just look at HER umbilical cord really fast."  My heart sank. I couldn't believe it. It was like I was psychic!  I just knew that would happen. I said nothing. I knew if I said something she would try to cover it up. But I knew in my heart it was true. She had surely seen the gender at that point. And I had found that up to 80% of hospitalized hyperemesis patients were carrying girls, so it seemed likely that was why I was so sick. On the way out she handed me a disk and told me not to watch the end because I might see the gender. 

I called some friends on the way home and asked them what to do. Everyone said it was a mistake and I still had a surprise. My friend offered to come pick up the disk so I wasn't tempted. I wanted her to, but she didn't. But Dave felt like me. He felt certain that the slip was accurate. He tormented me for a few days. It ALL tormented me. I felt like I was lying to the world by saying I didn't know. I realized that I would spend the rest of the pregnancy thinking it was a girl, and then if it came out a boy I would be disappointed. I finally gave into Dave's requests and let him watch the DVD. 

Now the deal was that if he could see clearly what it was, we would find out, if not, maybe we wouldn't. Well he took it to work and watched the video. But of course he couldn't tell, he had no idea what he was looking for. But at the end of the DVD he saw the word "female" written, so he thought he cheated. He acted weird. He didn't tell me. He said he couldn't tell from the video. He said he wanted me to have my surprise anyway. But then when I said I was buying boy clothes AND girl clothes he told me that was silly. I knew he knew so I made him tell me finally. 

He said, "your dream was right."  So I asked if it was a boy. He said no. It's a girl. (More later on the dream). We had a quick moment of celebration , but we were headed out the door with our family, so it didn't last long. 

That night I watched the DVD myself and it was very clear to me that she was a girl.  There were actually glimpses of that throughout the scan. He was right. But he was also wrong. The "female" was written in my medical information. "I" was the female. Oh well, we knew for sure now anyway. 

But I had told everyone we weren't finding out, and I told everyone I didn't see (which was true at the time). So we decided to keep it to ourselves, but after lying to some friends, we realized we couldn't do that for 3 more months. 

We sat the boys down and told them the news. (Video coming). They didn't even move a muscle. They were not impressed. We told our parents that night, and texted our siblings. I got up the courage to tell the world after another day or two. 

I struggled with this news unlike I would have expected. If G had been a girl I would have thrown a party!  But after 5 boys, and thinking I would get a 6th boy, it was more shocking and hard to believe or comprehend. It didn't feel right. I also was really sad that the surprise was ruined, and stressed about getting ready for this girl with how sick I was. 

The next month I had a follow up ultrasound. I told the tech what had happened, and she felt terrible. I asked her to double check between the legs and when she did, I cried. I sobbed a little. It was the fun, exciting moment I had dreamed of. I brought home my girly pictures and looked at them every day. (Kind of creepy right?). But it was the only connection I had to her being a girl. It helped train my brain to believe I was having a girl. 

In the end, I feel like it was best that I found out. Preparing for my little girl was fun, and it was really great to have a pretty nursery and clothes and blankets ready for her. 

My mentality through hyperemesis

I wanted to die. Not kidding. I hoped to spontaneously die. I didn't have energy to take my own life. But I didn't want to live to see another day. It was a dark time. I had this mental image that I was drowning. And up above the water I could see the faces of family and friends looking at each other, shrugging, shaking their heads, and not being able to save me. No one can help you feel better with hyperemesis. There was no relief in baths or medication or food. I laid on my stomach to keep from heaving every second of every day. If I was upright, I was fighting/choking down the vomit. It took all my energy. I missed church, I slept in and woke up to the boys already gone to school, I missed end of the year performances, and anything and everything else. I hired a house cleaner, but fired her because it was too much work to tell her what to do. THAT is pathetic. Family and friends did cooking, cleaning, and laundry if Dave didn't have time. I did nothing. 

Every once in awhile I would feel a little hope break through. Maybe once a day. I would say, "I will do this for you baby. I CAN do this for you."  Then I would cry with guilt for how poorly I was handling my sickness. I cried all the time. It was truly the hardest time of my life. 

The evolution of my treatment.

My desire to pretend I wasn't pregnant was shattered with the beginning of hyperemesis. I had to tell my mom right away because I had become entirely non functional. We had been planning a surprise 40th birthday for Dave on Friday, and it was at my moms clubhouse. I needed so much of her help!  She was so kind to help and encourage me to lay down. I doubled my dose of zofran for the party and not every person had to know I was pregnant that night as I was standing and smiling. (But not eating or drinking). 

 Looking back and recording the timing of all this is crazy. That week seemed so long. I have checked the calendar twice to be sure it was only a week!  

I couldn't drink coke or club soda. I found that I could keep down 1 can of San pellegrino grapefruit soda per day. Small sips. Duh!  You need more than a can of soda per day in fluids. Within a week or so I found I couldn't even keep a sip down. I found myself with all the symptoms of a UTI, even a fever. On April 22 I went for my first IV. I was so dehydrated that my body was shutting down. There was no infection, just burning, fever, fatigue, and delusion from dehydration They told me I had to drink something before I left after my two bags of fluid. I flat out refused. There was no point in drinking. Nothing would stay down. I told them the fluid made me sicker. Suddenly with fluid in my body, my stomach had acid again. That felt awful. But overall, the life was coming back into me, and that was a good sign. 

A few days went by and I knew I needed another IV. Ugh. It was such a pain to go up to the hospital. By May 1st (again, seemed like two months, but was only a few days) I realized I needed home healthcare. I needed daily iv fluids as I kept absolutely no fluids down. The bonus in that was getting zofran in my iv, so no more pin cushion hips. 

I started my home healthcare and got my peripheral lines switched out twice a week. I found that hospice nurses are terrible at Ivs, but I found one nurse, Melissa, who was awesome at Ivs. I only let her come, and she was my angel. She became my friend. I lived because of her!  Every Friday, my huge box of supplies came, and I was relieved to have supplies for keeping myself alive. 

During this time I took a drink only once every two weeks or so. It would immediately come up. I couldn't keep down soup or cereal or anything liquid. I could keep down dry food and somehow jello worked. 

Mid June, I had a little miracle as I could keep down liquid. I pulled out the iv finally. Woohoo!  I was still throwing up plenty, but just not everything I drank or ate. 

Starting in April

No promises though. I last blogged the first week of April. That was when my life "got flipped turned upside down". You see on St Patricks day, I told Dave, "I think we should wait another year to get pregnant."  He didn't like that idea. I went to the bathroom, peed on a stick, and realized it was too late anyway. I was so nervous about another pregnancy so soon. I had no idea. 

I always have daydreamed about not telling people I'm pregnant for a long time, but I realize that isn't an option everytime around 7 weeks when I want to die of morning sickness. So I pretended like nothing was happening as long as possible. 

The end of march brought spring break, which was blogged about partially. One story that didn't get recorded was on a hike with G. He was wearing a shirt that has an embroidered snake around the neck. On our hike I was in the back with him and was making conversation with him. I told him he had a snake on his shirt. He looked down and saw the snake. He started screaming, "get it off get it off!!!"  He ran as fast as he could flailing his arms while I screamed behind him, "it's not a real snake!!!"  He ran to Dave who had to convince him there wasn't a real snake on him. 

Anyway. Spring break started off great, and I packed some zofran knowing that sickness could begin that week. Monday I felt nauseated, and started eating a lot to keep from feeling sick. Tuesday worse and Wednesday I was throwing up my cereal. No more eating felt good. Saturday night we went to Denny's and I couldn't even eat. I threw up all day and all night long on Friday and Saturday now that I think about it. Sunday we had to come home, and I threw up at every rest stop. And in a bag while we drove. I was throwing up every 20-30 minutes. I wanted to die. The zofran I packed wasn't helping because I couldn't keep it down.  On the way home, I stopped at jesses office for a zofran shot. It seemed to help a little. 

I counted the hours until business hours Monday morning when I could talk to my ob about my options. (Euthanasia became my first choice, but was never offered). He offered me some alternate forms of zofran, but the best option was intramuscular injections. I just couldn't do anything oral. So on Monday I began injecting my hip with zofran.