Amelia is currently obsessed with the song "Ev'rybody Wants to Be a Cat" from Disney's The Aristocats. Since last night or so, she is prone to incessantly beg "ey-buh-ee" until we play it. I am content to play the song on repeat without the video up on screen, but she really likes the video too. Last night she was really tired (and possibly feeling unwell?) and whimpered "ey-buh-ee" over and and over again until I sang it a capella. And I sang it over and over again until she slept. Yikes.
I think she is having a wordsplosion right about now. It would not surprise me to report that she regularly uses 300-400 words, especially after attempting to create an extensive Amelia-to-English translator's dictionary. Such a thing might be impossible without recording every word she says over the course of a few days... and even if I were to do that, while I was compiling a list based on that data, she'd probably spout off another fifty new words just to spite my attempts at scientific completeness. Oh well. Here is a very partial list of Amelia's vocabulary...
dooo! = I do! [yes]
no, pee! = No, please!
nao... = No [Mother, that was a stupid suggestion]
my! = mine!
pee = pee, please, pink, pizza, piano
poo = poo, spoon
pah-ee = potty
pie = Pinkie Pie, My Little Pony
shy = Fluttershy
uh-shy = Fluttershy
cuh = color
pah = pen, pencil, marker, paper
cull = popsicle
chee = cheese
chee(oh) = Cheerio
cho = Cheerio
djoo = juice (or other non-water liquids for drinking)
bubboo = water, bottle, bubbles
doot-doo = music
shao = shower, bath
bao = ball
boh = bow, bowl
buh = butt
beh = belly, belly button
birh = bird, bear
boooo = book, boob, nurse
dao = down, up
dreh = dress
gwee = green
bwoo = blue
bwao = brown
yeh-oo = yellow
weh = red
meow = cat
*blows raspberry* = elephant
see = seat, chair
all gah! = all gone
all duh! = all done
tee = tree
twee = three
too! = two, numbers
priy = pretty
prey = pretty
appoh = apple
nana = banana
sih-dao = upside-down
bee! = B, letters, bee
wai = wipes
sai = outside
cah = car
yay! = yay!
yeah! = yeah!
uh oh... = uh oh...
eye! = eye
ee-uh = ear
tee = teeth
no = nose
hey-uh = hair
aff-oh = flower
uff-oo = puzzle
awful = waffle
cwai = cry
shoo = shoes
sah = socks
nay = naked
Pah-oh = Paul (our friend)
Cah-ee = Cassie (our friend)
puppy = puppy
keeee = keys
foh = phone
cheh-ee = cherry
nee = need
neeee = knee
aahhh = arms
toh = toes
fee = feet
eeeewww = ew
goh = gross
ew, goh! = ew, gross!
fah = fall
About here I realized I had set myself an impossible task and decided to do something else.
In any case, you may or may not have noticed that Amelia has something against consonants. Or multisyllabic words. Or both? It's like she picks her favorite syllable from a word, chops off a consonant or two, and then goes with it. I guess that's baby talk for you.
Except sometimes she deigns to speak more fully. Sometimes longer sentences will spill out of her mouth, and at those times the words themselves sprout their appropriate missing consonants so as to sound more proper and such. Examples: "It's just so funny!" "Where's the puppy?" "That's not juice!" "That smells." [This one was said to a passing smoker, hah!] "I peed and pooped!" "The cat says meow!" I suppose there is also "I am cry 'cuz bedtai." That one... I had told her that I don't like it when she screams. She responded by explaining that she wouldn't cry if I didn't enforce bedtime. Hah. Yeah, RIGHT.
She's also been inventing signs. She invented one for "smile" the other day. She smiles and runs her fingers across her teeth. She is now very happy to point out that other people are smiling or happy using this sign. Her sign for "dance" is to dance with her pointer fingers.
Oh, music. She loves it. She is beginning to recognize when a song sounds "sad" and will start making mournful noises, point to the speakers, and say "sah". She understands "tempo" in some sort of crude way. She is already responding to the beat and will sway in time to a waltz, and convulse in time to something more exciting, like "Everything is Awesome". I am somewhat amused to report that her dance moves are a bit monotonous. It's always the dancing disco pointer fingers, even if she is dancing to a hymn. Ha.
Another favorite is "Let It Go"... If she's in the mood she'll do all the arm movements Elsa does in the movie. She's been doing that less often recently, though, because we've been limiting screen time... at home, anyway. Kind of. It is just too easy to watch a gajillion random Internet videos. And then Amelia gets upset when we stop. So we try not to start up on those. We are even attempting to make ourselves not click on random videos in our news feeds. This is turning out to be extremely difficult. Especially for James, it is just an automatic to click play when y'all share videos.
Anyway, I'm not sure if we've actually reduced screen time much while I've been terribly sick and weak, but I think watching movies as a family is an improvement over random Internet vids. We've watched "The Lion King", "Kung Fu Panda", "Up", "The LEGO Movie", and "Frozen" in just over a week. Amelia, I think, is starting to actually understand much of what we are watching. Scary. Sometimes she will look at me questioningly to explain something. Last night I had to explain to her that Anna and Elsa were sad because their mommy and daddy had died.
Food... augh, food. Let me tell you, we were having some good success in breaking Amelia's cheese and juice fixation for a few days before I got sick enough to need IV hydration. All I did was just not give her cheese or juice and suffer through the whining. And there was a lot of it, because she was refusing all food except those two things, and was thus hungry. And also increasingly desperate. She actually started eating random stuff with me. Huzzah!
And then I got sick, and I have been nearly unable to eat anything that isn't cheese or juice. (What's up with that?) And there is no way on Earth I'm going to be able to convince the tot to eat alternative foods if that is comprising the vast majority of my own diet. Oh well.
Other foods besides cheese sandwiches and juice that I've been able to stomach include elderflower syrup in water, Rice Krispies treats, fancy Austrian chocolate, G.H. Cretor's Chicago Mix popcorn, and... well, yesterday I ate a vinegar-doused Greek pasta salad, then licked the extra vinegary stuff off the bowl, much to James' dismay. (For whatever reason, James cannot stand vinegar. It's really quite odd.)
Notice anything that all those foods have in common? They are invariably high-calorie, low-nutrient foods. Also low in fiber. Everytime I attempt to eat an actual fruit or veggie, I have massive difficulty. I am even having trouble with the tomato sauce on pizza.
I have to be careful with juices, too. Some juices I can't handle... like orange juice. Or the strawberry juice James brought back from Austria. Peach, apricot, grape, and even mango have all been fine. Oh well. Haven't yet figured out a homemade smoothie recipe that'll sit well in my belly. Again, oh well. The midwives and I are in agreement here: just eat it. I am having too much trouble keeping down macronutrients to worry much about micronutrients.
It just still feels so wrong. Sometimes I hear Dr. Fuhrman's voice in my head saying something to this effect: "You are poisoning your unborn child! And your toddler! And yourself! Bad Jenna, bad!" Don't worry. I beat him up every time he says that. I realize that suboptimal nutrition is better than no nutrition. I managed to gain seven whole pounds in the last two weeks to make up for the weight I lost during the very bad bit. Huzzah! I am smack dab in the middle of the "normal weight gain" curve today.
Today I also "completed" my hunt for 3T-sized clothes. HUZZAH. Ugh. I eventually decided that the best method, if forced to purchase clothing, anyway, is to purchase only at thrift stores like Goodwill and Value Village... and to buy only clothes with the color tags that happen to be half-off... Because I am unwilling to pay more than an average of $1 per article of clothing, especially since it is going on a crazy tot. This color tag method really only works if you show up first thing in the morning on the day they change the color tags... (Turns out both Goodwill and Value Village change the color tag sale once a week... Goodwill on Sunday, and Value Village on Thursday. I had the bestest luck showing up at Goodwill on Monday morning, and Value Village Thursday morning.) Only took a few trips after I started timing it right.
Now, my success noted, I am actually disappointed that the clothing I purchased is fitting so well, because that means it won't fit for long. 3T shirts all fit... well, perfectly. 3T dresses... also fit well. Importantly, none of the skirts end above her knees. 3T pants... well, dang. These don't fit perfectly. They are invariably too long, by maybe an inch or two. However, they fit her waist fantastically--better than the 2T pants, anyway--so she will be donning rolled up pant legs for a bit. I have this sinking feeling her legs are going to grow a few inches soon, anyway. Strangely, 3T pajamas (especially the nice Carter's ones) are all too big. I guess they just try to make pajamas roomier to be more comfy?
I actually bought quite a bit in 4T as well, especially in shirts, because they don't look all that big on her. I hate shopping for clothes. I hate it. And, in a year from now, I will be getting ready to move to California with a three-year-old and a one-year-old. While James has no income. Sounds awful. We are already saving dollars for this time, and plan to save nearly our entire tax return for this time, so I figured it'd be a great idea to save tot clothes, too. Especially when I am finding them for a dollar or even fifty cents.
The only thing we have to investigate further is a 3T or 4T swimsuit, but the 2T one she has is fairly roomy, especially if she doesn't wear a diaper with it. And maybe shoes. But I am picky about shoes. I usually buy those new. There is a reason Amelia has one pair of shoes right now that she wears everywhere. (We also have some bigger shoes available for when that pair gets too tight.)
Woot. Anyway, Amelia is getting better at taking care of herself. She is avidly trying to figure out how to clothe and declothe herself (as well as how to hang up clothes just perfectly) and is getting pretty good at it. Toileting... sigh. Okay, I shouldn't sigh so much about this. She is actually doing really quite wonderfully. She manages to use the potty most of the time, usually without us even asking.
The sigh comes from when she stealth poops in the potty by herself. She doesn't know how to wipe her own bum adequately, of course. Ugh, ugh, ugh. I do not care to elucidate on the cause of my sighs further.
This whole semi-success transition phase is rough. Just when I had my diaper-washing routine down, she stopped soiling diapers that quickly. I am now washing them three times every two weeks, when really, they were meant to be washed every other day. This means I have ended up submitting the diapers to a more exciting wash routine to combat the fact that the diapers now have more time to become BFFs with ammonia while waiting in the wet bag for a wash. It will help when Dragon gets here. Or perhaps we will need to go buy panties for Amelia soon.
Amelia's artwork is getting increasingly complicated. For those familiar with or interested in the stages of artistic development, she is firmly entrenched in the preschematic stage. She is now sometimes drawing boobs on Mommy stick figures. I know now what she considers my most important feature. (I promise, I didn't teach her that.) She also draws things besides people, on occasion... such as bees, trees, bananas...
Oh, and sometimes she tells stories about the people she draws. Once she was drawing lines down a face, and she explained to me that the guy "is sah, is cry, cry, cry..." Apparently, he was crying a lot, because she kept drawing lines over his face until you couldn't tell there had once been a person underneath.
At times I get a little freaked out by Amelia's leaps in artistic development... I mean, the standard wisdom is that kids don't start drawing like this until age 3, or maybe 4. I can tell James is a little freaked out sometimes too. Once, after sitting for a while with a concerned face, he asked me, "So... if she's 2, and she draws like a 3-year-old, does that mean her IQ is 150? Or maybe she draws like a 4-year-old. 200!" I laughed at him, and I assured him that art skills likely don't correlate that neatly with IQ.
Besides, I don't want to admit I have a kid quite that unusual until I absolutely have to. I mean, I was labelled gifted as a kid, both my sisters should have been (one was dyslexic and that got in the way, so sad), James was (and I estimate that his raw intelligence is higher than mine is), as far as I can tell, all his brothers and sisters fit in the gifted category (except maybe the one with Down syndrome... though I have a sneaking suspicion that if it weren't for that pesky extra chromosome, she'd be as intelligent as the rest of them) as did his parents, etc., etc., etc. So, I have just assumed all my children will be quite intelligent.
I am just now beginning to realize that, more than pride-inducing, it is just plain frightening to see signs of it in Amelia. It's overwhelming. I mean, I'm responsible for the majority of circumstances in her life, and just thinking back to the difficulties I had growing up with the gifted label makes me exceedingly nervous. How do I coach another small "gifted" kid through life?
I know the stereotypical reaction to a parent who thinks their child is unusual in anyway (especially if they let slip the g-word) is something like "Oh, come on. That's perfectly normal. Puh-lease. Stop bragging already." *eye roll, loss of respect*... That alone makes me scared to even express my anxieties. But it is the truth. Oh, of course, there is a part of me that is exceedingly pleased to see that Amelia is intelligent. How could I not feel that way? But the overriding emotion is the, "Oh goodness. Here comes the rollercoaster ride."
In any case, Amelia is quite good at drawing for her age. I don't know how much of that is hereditary, but practically my dad's entire family is exceptionally talented in the visual arts and many of them use that skill in some way to make their living. So, at the very least, there is that to look forward to. Predictably, my dad esteems it very important to encourage Amelia's interest in art as much as possible. He spent lots of money to send her a TON of art supplies for her birthday. So... you can look forward to more photos of artwork on Facebook.
Well... it is nap time.
Love and tadpole people,
Jenna
and Amelia
and Dragon
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
I'm Not A Wimp! Yay!
So remember how a week ago I was practically dead because I was so sick? Here's the story with all the details...
I was feeling fine on Monday, so I grabbed Amelia and we ventured to Costco. This was the most adventurous I'd felt since James had flown to Vienna, Austria for a mathematical physics conference. Later, I went to FHE with my friends... There, I was fine at first, but began to feel quite ill. I had to go lie in the back while others took care of Amelia. Went home, went to bed.
Woke up around 3:30am Tuesday morning, feeling absolutely AWFUL. Finally rolled out of bed at 5am, feeling worse. I was throwing up little mouthfuls of wonderfulness, and then I drank some liquid... Which is resulted in vomiting up nearly 1.5 L of extra wonderfulness. No idea where all the volume came from. Felt all right after that; ate a dissolving Zofran, went to bed.
Woke up again at 7:30am feeling just as awful, but I had a midwife's appointment that morning, so I proceeded to attempt getting ready to go. I thought I should probably eat or drink something. After wracking my noggin, the only thing in the house that even remotely sounded half-appealing was a bowl of plain Cheerios in milk. I got this for myself... ate two bites, and then immediately vomited another 1.5 L. Ate another dissolving Zofran, to no avail.
I do not know where all this volume came from, but I knew it was not a fair exchange. One sip or one bite of something should not result in over a liter of liquid loss. I was still peeing, but it was scarily dark in color... red brown. I knew I was going to start faring even worse if I was unable to get down any water, because dehydration is majorly one of my nausea triggers.
I was seriously feeling too ill to actually go to the midwife, but I felt like I should go. Firstly, see, I have trouble explaining to them how ill I am. This would seem the perfect time to show them how bad I am feeling. Secondly, I strongly suspected that if I did not get IV hydration, I was not going to survive... or survive well, anyway.
James wasn't here to help me, after all, and all the people who had exhibited willingness to help during the day (when the majority of my acquaintances all work during the day) were either out of town or, in the case of one woman, was herself recovering from a hospital visit for an emergency blood transfusion. So I would be alone. All day. With Amelia. Even without Amelia, being alone in that state would be bad. I would probably get bad enough that I'd have had to call random people in the ward asking if they were available to take me to urgent care.
So I resolved to get to my appointment. I made it. I drove there with a bucket in my lap, but did not vomit while driving. Huzzah.
I got Amelia there with me, the process of which might've seemed comical to me had I been feeling differently. She was not waking up, which was fine with me for the time. I stuffed a few snacks for her in my purse since I was sure she'd want breakfast. Got a water bottle, packed a wet bag, and then grabbed Fluttershy... and then put her pants, socks, and shoes in my purse with the snacks because...well... She was still sleeping and was half-naked. When it was time to go, I just picked her up out of bed and put the confused, quasi-awake toddler directly into the carseat with a little thing of Cheerios and a cup of milk, and went. I was quite proud of myself for gathering and bringing all those things, even if I was too pathetic to actually change the kid's diaper or put her clothes on.
So yeah. I walked in with a half-naked toddler and a vomit bucket. Standing on the scale indicated that I had lost weight this last month. Theoretically I should be gaining maybe a pound each week by now. When the midwife came into the exam room, I was lying on my side on the exam table, clutching the vomit bucket, and crying. Amelia was excitedly raiding my purse for fruit snacks, still reeking of an overnight pee diaper and half-naked.
Apparently, this presentation was effective! The midwife (this one was the newbie in practice) went to fetch the senior midwife on staff, who theoretically has more experience treating hyperemesis, and that midwife decided IV hydration was indeed an excellent idea. Only when she said it, she said I would need to head over to the urgent care in the hospital for it. All our eyes flicked over to the toddler in the corner who had successfully transformed any semblance of order in the room into chaos. I knew I needed it, though, so I told the two midwives that I thought IV fluids would help.
It was eventually decided to put me in bed in the back-up birthing suite, to bring toys and books from the waiting room for Amelia, and to call someone to come here and administer IV fluids there instead of at urgent care. I can only imagine the chaos that might have ensued had a such a thing been attempted at the urgent care. The back-up birthing suite is rarely used, so it was a good place to hide me. [They have two full birthing suites at the birth center. The back-up room is for when three patients happen to be laboring at the same time, which in the history of the birth center, has never actually happened. So far only one lady has given birth in that room, and she chose to because for whatever reason, she liked it better than the actual birthing suites.]
So I waited in bed for someone to show up. It took something like half an hour for her to come. When she showed up, she looked at my veins and... yikes, what veins? She wrapped my arm in a warm towel for a bit, and even then, she could not get a needle into a vein. She eventually had success with a vein in my hand.
I am always surprised how quickly administration of IV fluids can help me feel just better enough that my mind starts working again. I felt like I could chase Amelia... you know, if I hadn't been all wired up and such. Plus, moving lurched my stomach around, so I didn't. Instead, Amelia had all sorts of fun with emesis bags, gauze, and gloves.
Amelia was also very sweet. She figured out that Mommy was sick and would pat my arm affectionately, and give me kisses, and offer me her water and snacks. I managed to eat maybe an eighth of a graham cracker. This was quite an accomplishment. Someone brought me a bit of chamomile tea with honey in it, too. I was able to drink this, but only once it'd been iced.
Anyway, we were at the birth center for maybe three and a half hours. Amelia eventually got deathly bored attending my side. She took my purse, inserted Fluttershy, a water bottle, and some snacks, looped it over her shoulders, and opened the door and left. This happened a few times. Thankfully, between the midwives, lactation consultants, and other staff around, she never got far. Some of the nurses played with her some to help alleviate her boredom.
Once the liter-sized bag was empty, they sent me home. We went home and had our nap. Amelia eventually woke up, though, of course, and by then I was still not recovered, though I was no longer vomiting. I fed myself by eating one bite of chicken salad each hour. I did not feed Amelia, but she seemed to feed herself just fine. She got into all the cupboards and ate her fill of... well, snack food, I think. But in any case, she did not starve.
I eventually got hold of my friend Cassie, and she came over to help with Amelia. When she showed up, she walked in on me crying in bed, and Amelia cuddling me and patting my arm and giving me kisses. Amelia kept trying to feed me fruit snacks. She was very sweet.
At this point, I was so sore. Bed sore from lying down all day, maybe. Dehydrated-type muscle soreness, almost certainly. Anyway, I decided to move my pathetic form to the bathtub and took a wonderful bath with Epsom salt, mint oil, and rosemary oil. It was exactly what I needed to not be in extreme pain anymore. After that, a couple of friends came over and gave me a priesthood blessing. Cassie stayed for a while after they left to put more food down in Amelia's reach. After she left, I attempted to have a Skype conversation with James, who had just woken up for the day over in Vienna. Only that didn't work. I kinda just stared and drooled and stuff. (Only I didn't drool.) So we went to bed.
I woke up in the wee hours of the morning again... but instead of vomiting and such, I was super hungry. Amelia also woke up (to my dismay), so the two of us ate whatever it was that I felt able to eat. The only thing I felt I could eat was juice and cheese. By coincidence, perhaps, these are Amelia's most favorite sources of calories, so she did not object to sharing. I suppose the juice craving was my body saying, "Ooh! Water, sugar, and other electrolytes? And a maybe a dash of some other micronutrients? Yes, please!" and the cheese was my body saying, "Ooh! Milk sugar, protein, with some fat and salt? Sounds like something I should eat!" We went back to bed after our juice and cheese.
But then, the next day, that's pretty much all we ate. Me, because that's what my body demanded (anything else caused me to start feeling awful just thinking about it). Amelia, because those are her favorite foods, and it's impossible for me to eat them in front of her without sharing.
The next day, I was able to drink plain water, even. And I felt hydrated. I do not know how many of you understand the relief of rehydration after dehydration. It feels like every cell in my body was rejoicing about the availability of water. It is a very similar feeling to what I feel when I start eating a nutrient-dense diet after eating a normal, nutrient-deficient diet for a while. It's just that feeling of every cell exuberating.
Of course, the day after that, I started feeling normal-for-pregnant-me again, but whatever.
Anyway, enough of my acquaintances have described falling ill for about twenty-four hours, with only nausea and vomiting for symptoms, that I suspected that perhaps my sudden decline from simply severe nausea to hyperemesis that lasted roughly twenty-four hours was not a random pregnancy thing but instead was this bug manifesting itself.
Well, it seems James has caught it now, and I am even more convinced that it was bug plus pregnancy nausea equalled hyperemesis last week. James vomited today, probably for the first time since he had salmonella on his mission... which was seven years ago. (Yikes.)
I confess that watching James be sick has elicited in me mostly glee. Some sympathy, yes, but by far, mostly just glee. Before you condemn me as a horrible person, let me explain more: right now, he is acting exactly the same way I've been acting for months. Normally, he is incredibly active, but... he has the same facial expression. He keeps saying things like, "I need to lie down.. Ugh..." and "I'd play games or something, but... too much effort." Too much effort! He understands! It really does take a lot of effort to use both hands (and use your brain) while gaming! And then later, "Ugh... I'm not really feeling nauseous right now anymore, but... my body just says, sit down and don't move. Uuuugh..."
Yes. This. This is exactly what I've been feeling since... I don't know. Early February. And James is wide-eyed and horrified just imagining constantly feeling like this for a mere month! Or even a measly week! Ha!
Guys! Do you know what this means? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?
It means I'm not a wimp!
I mean, I have slowly been realizing this. Yes, I've been feeling like a pathetic wimp for months and months, but that does not mean wimp is my natural state.
In fact, a few weeks ago I was explaining to God that I feel like a complete wimp, and I was hard-pressed to find any evidence to the contrary. After all, I've been very, very inactive. Exhausted, all the time. Walking the short distance to the mailbox, even without a toddler in tow, often seems an unattainable goal, even when I'm not feeling particularly nauseous. I don't know very many people younger than 45 without serious chronic illnesses who feel like this, even with their version of pregnancy sickness.
The Spirit reminded me of two past happenings in my life, and people's stunned reaction to these happenings.
1) I went to church after my water had broken and was waiting for labor to start.
People's reaction: Why the heck are you HERE?
Me: ... Should I not be? I would be more bored waiting at home...
People: You are INTENSE!
2) I went to church six days after giving birth, and four days after returning home from the hospital.
People's reaction: Why the heck are you HERE?
Me: ...Should I not be?
People: You must not have torn down there or something. You're not in pain? You're not tired?
Me: ... ... Oh, I tore. It is quite painful. And I am extremely tired. But I feel at least one hundred times better than I have in months! I'm not nauseous! I can eat!
People: You are INTENSE!
I was further reminded that when I went to the hospital as a teenager for my spinal fusion surgery, I was categorized as exceptional in my recovery. I was the happiest kid the staff had ever seen. I got up and walked the day after they'd operated on my spine. I also began to turn myself over in bed around the same time. I freaking gave a tour of the hospital the day after that. And then I was released and went home on day three, with the comment from the old surgeon that this was the quickest recovery he'd ever seen from this particular surgery.
I. Am. Not. A. Wimp.
Now, with that in mind, it is somewhat frustrating--even more so--that so many people seem to dismiss my struggles during pregnancy without acknowledging that I'm a rockstar (thanks, Dad Dilts). And, before that, my struggles with chronic fatigue, nerve pain, etc. I'm not a wimp! I promise!
Hmm. Can you believe that the content of this single post was originally going to be a short, single paragraph, in-a-nutshell summary of last week's illness? Anyway... I'm'a go tend my sick husband. (Glee!)
Love and stomach flu,
Jenna
and Amelia
and Dragon
P.S. I should mention before closing that the timing of this illness, if I had to get violently ill while James was in Vienna, was nothing short of miraculous. It was exactly timed for right when my midwife appointment was. If I had not gotten IV fluids so promptly, I imagine things would have deteriorated into something much, much worse. To complicate things, I have intense anxiety about phone calls, so I may have never gathered the courage to call a medical provider, or someone in the ward, or even family as my condition worsened. I may have needed to get to an urgent care or emergency room, and have been unable to do so. Another miracle: Amelia never got sick, not even a little. (This may have had something to do with a priesthood blessing given to her before James left for Vienna... He had given me one and Amelia wanted one, too. I'm so glad for it now.) Having a sick toddler at any time within a few days of me getting sick would have been completely unmanageable for me. Moral of the story: God knows exactly how much we can handle, and though He isn't likely to prevent trials from happening in the first place, He will make sure we are able to get through it. The gospel is just so awesome. I could go on ad infinitum, but let this suffice.
I was feeling fine on Monday, so I grabbed Amelia and we ventured to Costco. This was the most adventurous I'd felt since James had flown to Vienna, Austria for a mathematical physics conference. Later, I went to FHE with my friends... There, I was fine at first, but began to feel quite ill. I had to go lie in the back while others took care of Amelia. Went home, went to bed.
Woke up around 3:30am Tuesday morning, feeling absolutely AWFUL. Finally rolled out of bed at 5am, feeling worse. I was throwing up little mouthfuls of wonderfulness, and then I drank some liquid... Which is resulted in vomiting up nearly 1.5 L of extra wonderfulness. No idea where all the volume came from. Felt all right after that; ate a dissolving Zofran, went to bed.
Woke up again at 7:30am feeling just as awful, but I had a midwife's appointment that morning, so I proceeded to attempt getting ready to go. I thought I should probably eat or drink something. After wracking my noggin, the only thing in the house that even remotely sounded half-appealing was a bowl of plain Cheerios in milk. I got this for myself... ate two bites, and then immediately vomited another 1.5 L. Ate another dissolving Zofran, to no avail.
I do not know where all this volume came from, but I knew it was not a fair exchange. One sip or one bite of something should not result in over a liter of liquid loss. I was still peeing, but it was scarily dark in color... red brown. I knew I was going to start faring even worse if I was unable to get down any water, because dehydration is majorly one of my nausea triggers.
I was seriously feeling too ill to actually go to the midwife, but I felt like I should go. Firstly, see, I have trouble explaining to them how ill I am. This would seem the perfect time to show them how bad I am feeling. Secondly, I strongly suspected that if I did not get IV hydration, I was not going to survive... or survive well, anyway.
James wasn't here to help me, after all, and all the people who had exhibited willingness to help during the day (when the majority of my acquaintances all work during the day) were either out of town or, in the case of one woman, was herself recovering from a hospital visit for an emergency blood transfusion. So I would be alone. All day. With Amelia. Even without Amelia, being alone in that state would be bad. I would probably get bad enough that I'd have had to call random people in the ward asking if they were available to take me to urgent care.
So I resolved to get to my appointment. I made it. I drove there with a bucket in my lap, but did not vomit while driving. Huzzah.
I got Amelia there with me, the process of which might've seemed comical to me had I been feeling differently. She was not waking up, which was fine with me for the time. I stuffed a few snacks for her in my purse since I was sure she'd want breakfast. Got a water bottle, packed a wet bag, and then grabbed Fluttershy... and then put her pants, socks, and shoes in my purse with the snacks because...well... She was still sleeping and was half-naked. When it was time to go, I just picked her up out of bed and put the confused, quasi-awake toddler directly into the carseat with a little thing of Cheerios and a cup of milk, and went. I was quite proud of myself for gathering and bringing all those things, even if I was too pathetic to actually change the kid's diaper or put her clothes on.
So yeah. I walked in with a half-naked toddler and a vomit bucket. Standing on the scale indicated that I had lost weight this last month. Theoretically I should be gaining maybe a pound each week by now. When the midwife came into the exam room, I was lying on my side on the exam table, clutching the vomit bucket, and crying. Amelia was excitedly raiding my purse for fruit snacks, still reeking of an overnight pee diaper and half-naked.
Apparently, this presentation was effective! The midwife (this one was the newbie in practice) went to fetch the senior midwife on staff, who theoretically has more experience treating hyperemesis, and that midwife decided IV hydration was indeed an excellent idea. Only when she said it, she said I would need to head over to the urgent care in the hospital for it. All our eyes flicked over to the toddler in the corner who had successfully transformed any semblance of order in the room into chaos. I knew I needed it, though, so I told the two midwives that I thought IV fluids would help.
It was eventually decided to put me in bed in the back-up birthing suite, to bring toys and books from the waiting room for Amelia, and to call someone to come here and administer IV fluids there instead of at urgent care. I can only imagine the chaos that might have ensued had a such a thing been attempted at the urgent care. The back-up birthing suite is rarely used, so it was a good place to hide me. [They have two full birthing suites at the birth center. The back-up room is for when three patients happen to be laboring at the same time, which in the history of the birth center, has never actually happened. So far only one lady has given birth in that room, and she chose to because for whatever reason, she liked it better than the actual birthing suites.]
So I waited in bed for someone to show up. It took something like half an hour for her to come. When she showed up, she looked at my veins and... yikes, what veins? She wrapped my arm in a warm towel for a bit, and even then, she could not get a needle into a vein. She eventually had success with a vein in my hand.
I am always surprised how quickly administration of IV fluids can help me feel just better enough that my mind starts working again. I felt like I could chase Amelia... you know, if I hadn't been all wired up and such. Plus, moving lurched my stomach around, so I didn't. Instead, Amelia had all sorts of fun with emesis bags, gauze, and gloves.
Amelia was also very sweet. She figured out that Mommy was sick and would pat my arm affectionately, and give me kisses, and offer me her water and snacks. I managed to eat maybe an eighth of a graham cracker. This was quite an accomplishment. Someone brought me a bit of chamomile tea with honey in it, too. I was able to drink this, but only once it'd been iced.
Anyway, we were at the birth center for maybe three and a half hours. Amelia eventually got deathly bored attending my side. She took my purse, inserted Fluttershy, a water bottle, and some snacks, looped it over her shoulders, and opened the door and left. This happened a few times. Thankfully, between the midwives, lactation consultants, and other staff around, she never got far. Some of the nurses played with her some to help alleviate her boredom.
Once the liter-sized bag was empty, they sent me home. We went home and had our nap. Amelia eventually woke up, though, of course, and by then I was still not recovered, though I was no longer vomiting. I fed myself by eating one bite of chicken salad each hour. I did not feed Amelia, but she seemed to feed herself just fine. She got into all the cupboards and ate her fill of... well, snack food, I think. But in any case, she did not starve.
I eventually got hold of my friend Cassie, and she came over to help with Amelia. When she showed up, she walked in on me crying in bed, and Amelia cuddling me and patting my arm and giving me kisses. Amelia kept trying to feed me fruit snacks. She was very sweet.
At this point, I was so sore. Bed sore from lying down all day, maybe. Dehydrated-type muscle soreness, almost certainly. Anyway, I decided to move my pathetic form to the bathtub and took a wonderful bath with Epsom salt, mint oil, and rosemary oil. It was exactly what I needed to not be in extreme pain anymore. After that, a couple of friends came over and gave me a priesthood blessing. Cassie stayed for a while after they left to put more food down in Amelia's reach. After she left, I attempted to have a Skype conversation with James, who had just woken up for the day over in Vienna. Only that didn't work. I kinda just stared and drooled and stuff. (Only I didn't drool.) So we went to bed.
I woke up in the wee hours of the morning again... but instead of vomiting and such, I was super hungry. Amelia also woke up (to my dismay), so the two of us ate whatever it was that I felt able to eat. The only thing I felt I could eat was juice and cheese. By coincidence, perhaps, these are Amelia's most favorite sources of calories, so she did not object to sharing. I suppose the juice craving was my body saying, "Ooh! Water, sugar, and other electrolytes? And a maybe a dash of some other micronutrients? Yes, please!" and the cheese was my body saying, "Ooh! Milk sugar, protein, with some fat and salt? Sounds like something I should eat!" We went back to bed after our juice and cheese.
But then, the next day, that's pretty much all we ate. Me, because that's what my body demanded (anything else caused me to start feeling awful just thinking about it). Amelia, because those are her favorite foods, and it's impossible for me to eat them in front of her without sharing.
The next day, I was able to drink plain water, even. And I felt hydrated. I do not know how many of you understand the relief of rehydration after dehydration. It feels like every cell in my body was rejoicing about the availability of water. It is a very similar feeling to what I feel when I start eating a nutrient-dense diet after eating a normal, nutrient-deficient diet for a while. It's just that feeling of every cell exuberating.
Of course, the day after that, I started feeling normal-for-pregnant-me again, but whatever.
Anyway, enough of my acquaintances have described falling ill for about twenty-four hours, with only nausea and vomiting for symptoms, that I suspected that perhaps my sudden decline from simply severe nausea to hyperemesis that lasted roughly twenty-four hours was not a random pregnancy thing but instead was this bug manifesting itself.
Well, it seems James has caught it now, and I am even more convinced that it was bug plus pregnancy nausea equalled hyperemesis last week. James vomited today, probably for the first time since he had salmonella on his mission... which was seven years ago. (Yikes.)
I confess that watching James be sick has elicited in me mostly glee. Some sympathy, yes, but by far, mostly just glee. Before you condemn me as a horrible person, let me explain more: right now, he is acting exactly the same way I've been acting for months. Normally, he is incredibly active, but... he has the same facial expression. He keeps saying things like, "I need to lie down.. Ugh..." and "I'd play games or something, but... too much effort." Too much effort! He understands! It really does take a lot of effort to use both hands (and use your brain) while gaming! And then later, "Ugh... I'm not really feeling nauseous right now anymore, but... my body just says, sit down and don't move. Uuuugh..."
Yes. This. This is exactly what I've been feeling since... I don't know. Early February. And James is wide-eyed and horrified just imagining constantly feeling like this for a mere month! Or even a measly week! Ha!
Guys! Do you know what this means? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?
It means I'm not a wimp!
I mean, I have slowly been realizing this. Yes, I've been feeling like a pathetic wimp for months and months, but that does not mean wimp is my natural state.
In fact, a few weeks ago I was explaining to God that I feel like a complete wimp, and I was hard-pressed to find any evidence to the contrary. After all, I've been very, very inactive. Exhausted, all the time. Walking the short distance to the mailbox, even without a toddler in tow, often seems an unattainable goal, even when I'm not feeling particularly nauseous. I don't know very many people younger than 45 without serious chronic illnesses who feel like this, even with their version of pregnancy sickness.
The Spirit reminded me of two past happenings in my life, and people's stunned reaction to these happenings.
1) I went to church after my water had broken and was waiting for labor to start.
People's reaction: Why the heck are you HERE?
Me: ... Should I not be? I would be more bored waiting at home...
People: You are INTENSE!
2) I went to church six days after giving birth, and four days after returning home from the hospital.
People's reaction: Why the heck are you HERE?
Me: ...Should I not be?
People: You must not have torn down there or something. You're not in pain? You're not tired?
Me: ... ... Oh, I tore. It is quite painful. And I am extremely tired. But I feel at least one hundred times better than I have in months! I'm not nauseous! I can eat!
People: You are INTENSE!
I was further reminded that when I went to the hospital as a teenager for my spinal fusion surgery, I was categorized as exceptional in my recovery. I was the happiest kid the staff had ever seen. I got up and walked the day after they'd operated on my spine. I also began to turn myself over in bed around the same time. I freaking gave a tour of the hospital the day after that. And then I was released and went home on day three, with the comment from the old surgeon that this was the quickest recovery he'd ever seen from this particular surgery.
I. Am. Not. A. Wimp.
Now, with that in mind, it is somewhat frustrating--even more so--that so many people seem to dismiss my struggles during pregnancy without acknowledging that I'm a rockstar (thanks, Dad Dilts). And, before that, my struggles with chronic fatigue, nerve pain, etc. I'm not a wimp! I promise!
Hmm. Can you believe that the content of this single post was originally going to be a short, single paragraph, in-a-nutshell summary of last week's illness? Anyway... I'm'a go tend my sick husband. (Glee!)
Love and stomach flu,
Jenna
and Amelia
and Dragon
P.S. I should mention before closing that the timing of this illness, if I had to get violently ill while James was in Vienna, was nothing short of miraculous. It was exactly timed for right when my midwife appointment was. If I had not gotten IV fluids so promptly, I imagine things would have deteriorated into something much, much worse. To complicate things, I have intense anxiety about phone calls, so I may have never gathered the courage to call a medical provider, or someone in the ward, or even family as my condition worsened. I may have needed to get to an urgent care or emergency room, and have been unable to do so. Another miracle: Amelia never got sick, not even a little. (This may have had something to do with a priesthood blessing given to her before James left for Vienna... He had given me one and Amelia wanted one, too. I'm so glad for it now.) Having a sick toddler at any time within a few days of me getting sick would have been completely unmanageable for me. Moral of the story: God knows exactly how much we can handle, and though He isn't likely to prevent trials from happening in the first place, He will make sure we are able to get through it. The gospel is just so awesome. I could go on ad infinitum, but let this suffice.
Monday, August 4, 2014
A Complete Guide to Pleasing Amelia Materialistically on Her 2nd Birthday (August 20th)
I am pleased to report that the toddler is turning two this month. This means that not only has she survived, it also means that I have survived. Huzzah! ... And I suppose that perhaps James has also survived. (I wonder sometimes, though. He certainly doesn't seem alive when playing video games sometimes. He doesn't drool while playing, though, so I have hope he's still up in that brain somewhere.)
So yeah.
I went through the grueling process of combing my brain for gift ideas for the tot.
She loves drawing. We splurged and spent an entire five dollars at a thrift store for a chair and table for her to draw at. She already has washable markers. So... not sure what to say there. We've got this covered, I guess. Unless you have a mysterious stash of only pink washable markers, that is. She clearly prefers the pink marker to all the others, and it is therefore receiving the most abuse. It almost certainly will be the first of her markers to bite the dust.
Speaking of Amelia's love of pink, she is also quite fond of dresses, particularly pink ones. This... well, it isn't a nice dress. In fact, it doesn't rightly belong in the category of dress. It is a nightgown. But! It is pink, comfortable, and dress-shaped. Therefore, Amelia absolutely adores it. It currently smells of pee and I keep putting it in the laundry, only to have Amelia pull it out, hang it up primly on an hangar, and declare it to be "priy [pretty]". I have the most obscene difficulty keeping pee-ridden pink "dresses" in the laundry.
Let's see. She also has, of necessity, a positive opinion of all things "grown-up". Grown-up cups are superior to sippy cups. She can drink out of them without spilling just fine. The problem arises when she attempts to place the cup down on a table or something.
[Random aside time! I do not know why I really want to show you this cup, but I really want to show you this cup. The cup pictured below has recently become near and dear to my heart. (I received it as a graduation gift--filled with candy, of course--from my old employers in the BYU Chemistry Department. I once grumbled about what a useless gift it was. I have repented. I love it so much now.)
It is perfect for me to grab a cup of Ovaltine or something, because it is designed in such a way that sharing with a toddler becomes a production of ease rather than horror. It's got a handle. And the edges flange out... which makes controlling the rate at which fluid flows from cup to the toddler's oral orifice much easier. I fear for the day that this fragile item shatters. I will be sad.]
So yeah.
I went through the grueling process of combing my brain for gift ideas for the tot.
She loves drawing. We splurged and spent an entire five dollars at a thrift store for a chair and table for her to draw at. She already has washable markers. So... not sure what to say there. We've got this covered, I guess. Unless you have a mysterious stash of only pink washable markers, that is. She clearly prefers the pink marker to all the others, and it is therefore receiving the most abuse. It almost certainly will be the first of her markers to bite the dust.
Speaking of Amelia's love of pink, she is also quite fond of dresses, particularly pink ones. This... well, it isn't a nice dress. In fact, it doesn't rightly belong in the category of dress. It is a nightgown. But! It is pink, comfortable, and dress-shaped. Therefore, Amelia absolutely adores it. It currently smells of pee and I keep putting it in the laundry, only to have Amelia pull it out, hang it up primly on an hangar, and declare it to be "priy [pretty]". I have the most obscene difficulty keeping pee-ridden pink "dresses" in the laundry.
I also imagine any actual dress that is even remotely princessy will also be well-received. (She is size 3T right now.) These are my favorite clothing items to get at thrift stores, because for whatever reason, I don't get a lot of these handed down to me, and Amelia loves wearing them. Here is my most recent haul pictured with the one dress that still actually fits the girl. (She love, love, LOVES that red dress, Steffanie.)
And any dress-up stuff or old costumes you may have hiding in your closet? Amelia will adopt them.
[Random aside time! I do not know why I really want to show you this cup, but I really want to show you this cup. The cup pictured below has recently become near and dear to my heart. (I received it as a graduation gift--filled with candy, of course--from my old employers in the BYU Chemistry Department. I once grumbled about what a useless gift it was. I have repented. I love it so much now.)
It is perfect for me to grab a cup of Ovaltine or something, because it is designed in such a way that sharing with a toddler becomes a production of ease rather than horror. It's got a handle. And the edges flange out... which makes controlling the rate at which fluid flows from cup to the toddler's oral orifice much easier. I fear for the day that this fragile item shatters. I will be sad.]
Oh, right. Things Amelia likes. Grownup things. Like... I imagine she's go nuts over a tot-sized vacuum cleaner or a tot-sized broom, if you happen to find such things second-hand. I used to have a teeny-weeny toy piano like this when I was little. I suspect Amelia would seriously go bonkers having any of these items in her own size because Mommy is so obsessed with the big-sized kind. I can only imagine how excited she would be to "help" me vacuum, sweep, or make sweet music. Ha.
If you want a guaranteed hit, think anything My Little Pony. Aunty Becca already surprised her a few months ago with a complete Ty set of the Mane 6. Amelia is absolutely, completely, profoundly obsessed with Fluttershy here, whom she affectionately has dubbed 'Shy or what sounds like "Uh-Shy". So, in particular, anything Fluttershy will be her most favorite thing ever. My Little Pony books? Also her most favorite thing ever.
Only thing to be careful of: the old My Little Pony is not her favorite. If in doubt, just ask yourself... Do the ponies look creepy? If the answer is yes, don't bother. If the answer is no, and they look digitally rendered and such, you probably have the right ponies.
Next guarantee: Lego DUPLO blocks. New obsession in our house. I plan to collect lots of these. I will also collect actual small Legos when the time comes. And then I will keep them forever. I don't think I've ever met a kid who didn't like playing with Legos. Along a similar line, I think Lincoln Logs'd be popular with the beebs, too, but I have not tested this theory.
You could also send board books. I hesitate to say this, but it is possible that we have enough board books right now. our board book shelf is full at the moment. Perhaps, however, it is merely the case that it is time to get more shelf space. I believe there is no such thing as too many books. (Or Legos.)
Anyway, here is your complete guide to gift-finding for Amelia. I even compiled an Amazon wish list for those of you who are inclined to buy something new for her. I would like to point out that pretty much nothing on there is anything I expect you to buy on Amazon. Like a brand-new toddler trampoline? Talk about overkill. There's a toy piano on there, a toy vacuum... some Disney princess dress-up stuff... some random ponies... and then a heckuva lot of Duplos. (If you are inclined to buy something from there, I really think the My First Zoo Lego Duplo set would be the winner.) But honestly, the wish list is more of a guideline. Clean out your closets for such things, ask around... Used stuff is fabulous.
Love and stuff,
Jenna
and Amelia
and Dragon
P.S. If you wanted to get a "you survived two years of Amelia" gift for us parents, maybe you could send us something to actually clean those spots where Amelia deigns to pee on the carpet. (Grumble, grumble.) My parents had this old thing for such purposes when I was growing up. It got lots of use for cleaning up pet pee, as I recall, but I find myself considering how useful such a thing'd be for Amelia pee. Heck, a little UV light for finding pee stains would be equally useful.
P.P.S. If you want to give us something for the new baby... tubs of used baby clothes are the way to go. Otherwise, send us cash or gift cards or checks or something we can use for the truly random things we actually need besides baby clothes!
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