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.