21W2D

The Battle of Zofran continues. I am making progress against this bothersome enemy though. I got four more Zofrans yesterday after not getting any for over a week. The pharmacy tried to fill more than four at my pleading, but when they tried they'd get a "PLAN BENEFITS EXCEEDED" self-destruct alarm. And since I don't have hundreds of extra dollars chilling out at my place lounging around on the sofa watching Star Trek all day, I sadly retreated and dejectedly left with my mere four prisoners of war instead of the thirty to one hundred twenty I keep fantasizing I'll take home soon.

Perhaps because I was emotionally distraught, I accidentally locked my keys into my car and thus out of my apartment AND out of my only transportation device which could get me to work. I at least had the good sense to lock myself out with a gallon of milk, a loaf of French bread, a corn dog, a small handful of potato wedges, and, of course, my four little prisoners of war. I also conveniently had The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes with me as well as my cell phone.

So I cried a little. Desperately called James a few times... called work and told them I wasn't actually going to show up at 1:15 pm as planned... Cried my eyes out some more... Gleefully discovered Kleenex hiding in my purse... And then I ate one of my prisoners with a swig of milk. (Is that against the Geneva convention? I'm guessing it is, but at least I defended the other three from the super hungry cat that tried to eat them. Of course, I did eat them myself later...) Devouring the corn dog and my measly potato fragments also helped. James eventually saved the day and bussed all the way home just to rescue me.

Breaking news! I finally found out what is going on. The insurance company has decided they want a statement from the doctor explaining that I do, in fact, require lots of Zofran. That, and there is a non-negotiable limit on the amount I can get during a thirty-day period. Twenty-four. Jumping jackalopes! That isn't the 30-120 I was fantasizing about. However, it is certainly more than four, so I'll just count my blessings, I guess. ... ... ... I counted. There are twenty-four of these specific breed of blessing.

As for the latest news on the great Naming Conundrum of Baby Alpha, she is still nameless. She does, however, have a nickname. Pterodactyl. James and I were having a giggling fest coming up with absolutely ridiculous names for the baby during a romantic lunch-time walk around the University of Oregon... and Pterodactyl was our favorite. And it's stuck. I do have reservations about officially putting a dinosaur in the first name spot on the birth certificate, but there's nothing wrong with a hearty reptilian nickname.

So far, I've come to the conclusion that I have no idea what to name Pterodactyl, and I almost certainly will not know before she's born. I want to get it "right". Not because the act of truncating and adulterating her given names will bother me (it apparently bothered my dad that I shortened Jennifer to Jenna), but because I simply do not have the unemployed dollars available for a name change in case of a tragic misnaming.

I'm mainly concerned about how her given name will sound in the following contexts: 1) Is it cute enough for an adorable small child? 2) Is it professional enough that no one would have second thoughts accepting college and job applications? 3) Is it attractive enough that some man someday will have fantasies about marrying this woman? 4) Could I see an old lady totally rocking that name?

I am less concerned about what she decides to be called in day-to-day life by family and friends. I don't have a ferocious attachment to names, so I'd imagine that besides the obvious difficulties of retraining myself, I'd be okay if one day she announced that she was going to be called Pteradonna Dilts from that hour forward. I might think she was a little weird, but to be honest, the coolest nicknames are the weird ones. I especially liked the nicknames "Tractor", "Hershey" and "Peach" that some of my high school classmates sported.

The leading candidates establishing apartments in my frontal lobe at the moment are "Abigail Joy", "Emily Jean" (or "Emily Anne"?), "Adella Katherine" (or perhaps "Katherine Adele"), and... yeah. I'm sure there are more to come. I think I'm going to plan on compiling a small list of four to five names and bringing it with me to the birth and then try and figure out if any of them fit. I will seriously need to resist the urge to name her "Purple Bloody Screaming Lizard" based on her appearance. I'm hoping she'll manifest some telltale signs of a particular personality within a day or two that will seriously help me out.

On that note, I am super curious about other people's experiences in discovering their children's personalities. Was it obvious almost immediately, or did it take months to figure out? Please feel free to let me know what your experiences have been in this matter.

Love,
Jenna and Pterodactyl

Edit at 8pm: It's official. The battle of Zofran has ended and I am triumphant! I decided to call around to pharmacies in the area to find out how much I'd have to pay for it out of pocket. Pretty much all the pharmacies everywhere priced a 4 mg tablet at roughly $4 each. And when  I'm daydreaming about 120 of them... oh, my. That is nearly $500. SICK. If the insurance could be persuaded to pay for it, I'd only have to pay $50, but that seems pretty impossible.

And then, there was Costco. They were pricing 8 mg tablets at roughly $0.33 each. Oh my heck. Too good to be true. I made the poor pharmacist swear to me by his spleen seven times that he wasn't lying to me. So I went and got myself 90 of those beautiful babies for a mere $34. I now have enough Zofran to last me an entire month--even if I eat three of those tablets every day. I didn't imagine it could get that good.

I admonish you all to commit the following to memory: "ZOFRAN IS DIRT CHEAP AT COSTCO." It may come in handy during your own pregnancy or during a loved one's pregnancy. Also, remember to say "Thank you for Costco" in your prayers tonight.

20W5D

My unfortunate news is that I still do not have Zofran. I really think these prior authorization things annoy everybody, including the workers at the insurance companies. I've been throwing up every day again... although strangely enough, I am otherwise feeling pretty good. Productive, like.

So, those of you who know me pretty well know that I sleep a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. I often sleep anywhere from 10-18 hours like it's no big deal.

But now there is this strange phenomenon. I'll lay down in bed and instead of thinking "Zzzzzz" I think, "I should read something. Or I could clean that. That doesn't smell very good. Maybe I could write a really long post about names. Or maybe I'll think about science instead of sleep." So... now I'm sleeping 6-8 hours a day. And during the day I'm wide awake and alert and stuff.

I'm wondering if this is another mysterious side effect of pregnancy. Dr. Google hasn't verified this idea though, because no matter what my search terms are, I only find TIRED pregnant women on the Internets.

My other theory is that maybe, for the first time ever, I'm not depressed or hypothyroid. I'm on the highest dose of Armour Thyroid I've ever been on. It was increased back when I was vomiting all the time and could hardly keep it down, so now that I'm actually retaining all the ground-up pig thyroids I'm swallowing, I have this strange energy spike. Besides waking up feeling awake and staying alert all day, I don't have any other symptoms that might be caused by hyperthyroidism, so I've come to a shocking conclusion...

This might just be normal for me. And the whole hypersomnia and chronic fatigue might have just been a combination of depression and hypothyroidism the whole time. After my prayers of gratitude, I started whining. So how come this didn't happen in college, huh? I needed that energy badly. If I was sleeping only 6-12 hours nightly instead of 12-18 hours back in college, I can only imagine how much awesomer I could have been. I'm sure my GPA would have been at least 0.10 higher. And I might have been able to work lots and make moneys. And maybe even make more friends. Waaaat!? It did occur to me that this is precisely why that didn't happen. 'Cuz if I had been so cool in college, I would have been too awesome for my own good.

Well,  I sure hope this energy level thing isn't just a fluke of second trimester pregnancy and will disappear as I get huger and never return even years after delivery... I'm a little anxious that my theories are totally and completely false. I am so keeping my fingers crossed for the next few months, even if it makes it harder to  type...

20W1D

Whoo! Past the half-way point. Today was the ultrasound, which went well. We looked at all the baby's organs and such, which all appear perfectly normal. A heart with four chambers and an aorta, two cerebral hemispheres with nice ventricles, a corpus collosum and a cerebellum, an appropriate amount of limbs and fingers and toes, and normal looking kidneys and bladder. Lots of nice vertebrae and ribs. I think I even saw the falx cerebri and other bits of dura. There was a curious lack of tentacles or hooves, but this is acceptable.

I almost didn't get to find out if it was a boy or a girl. Despite my hopes for an exhibitionist, the kid ended up being quite modest or perhaps feared espionage from voyeurs. Those legs were tightly closed. So of course we jiggled the baby (and my bladder and somewhat queasy stomach) around for all of five minutes, when finally we got the goblin to open up its legs spread-eagle. Lo and behold, there were nice vulvae and a clitoris. Translation: we are having a girl!

As I've mentioned before, I strongly suspected that the kid was female, but I had no empirical evidence for such a belief. I've heard old wives' tales that nausea is worse when you've got yourself a female fetus... I've seen it mentioned in the medical community, but I was unable to locate any studies to confirm this on PubMed. Lame. Maybe if I could get into more databases, I'd find a study or two to look at.

I've also heard that there is a weak correlation (but yes, a correlation!) between the actual gender and the predicted gender according to the mother... I'd love to read studies related to that question, but frankly, I am at a loss for search terms when I get to the PubMed search page. Lame.

Anyway, in answer to a commonly asked question... We haven't decided on a name. But, as I've mentioned in the past, I'm fond of Adella/Adela/Adelle/Adele and that has remained the favorite over the last few months. I'm not sure what a middle name could be for that, but a few ideas were Leah or Marie or something like that. I kind of like Adella Leah Dilts, largely because of the nice cadence and the cool double alliteration going on there with d and l.  Uh-DEL-uh LEE-uh DILTS. Not bad.

Apparently, lots of people first think of the singer Adele, and wonder if we're thinking of naming the baby after her, but... the answer is no. Adele just happens to have a name I fancy, as did my former roommate Adella. In fact, I am somewhat disappointed that all of a sudden there's a celebrity with the name. Part of the reason I like Adele and its variants is because it's somewhat uncommon. Oh well.

Other favorites include Evangeline, Emily, Amelia, Eden... Notice they all start with vowels. Apparently I like those. And I guess there's always Skeletorina. I'm not going to put that on the birth certificate, but I guess if she grows up to covet the name, there's always a legal name change available.

19W6D

I've been hesitant to write this week, because I'm been upset. I wrote a much longer post with lots of gut spillage. It is in my drafts, and I am not sure I'll publish it. It's largely about what it's like to have hyperemesis and how it sucks when people think they understand, when really they don't. And because I struggled a lot with depression and how it sucks when people understand that, when really they don't, I wrote about that, too.

Here's the rest of it, without the gut spillage.

I think I was a little premature in saying the nausea was no big deal. After running out of Zofran and having to wait a week or so until I can get more, it's biting a lot harder again. I do still go to work, but I've had to run out of patient appointments to throw up. A funny coincidence is that every time it's happened, someone is occupying the bathroom. So, just when I can't hold it any more, I'll run to the nearest trash can and throw up in front of everyone. On Tuesday, I  got most of it into the trash can, but I also sprayed the wall in one of the exam rooms with my gastric juices. By yesterday, I've at least learned to aim a little better.

Frankly, I'm an emotional wreck right now. In the words of my boss, I've got post-traumatic puke disorder. I think I've lost more water crying this week than I have vomiting, largely because throwing up produces a violent emotional response. I'm just glad I'm not hyperemetic again.

Onto a brighter note, I've feeling the baby move lots. It was kind of like a switch--I couldn't feel it because my heartbeat was beating harder than the kid was kicking, and then one day the kid was stronger, I guess.

19W2D

I've been trying to sleep for about an hour and a half, but, as evidenced by my writing a blog post at this hour, I've been unsuccessful. Sad day. I'm not even worrying about anything. To be honest, I can't sleep because I can't stop thinking about how cool sperm is. Ha. I guess working at a fertility center has strange side effects. On the off chance that anyone else finds sperm fascinating, you are totally welcome to engage in deep conversation about it with me. Ha.

Only really interesting news is that I'm getting an ultrasound on Monday the 16th. There should be some cool pictures, especially since I can tell you it will be on the best (highest resolution) ultrasound machine in the Eugene area.

I haven't felt the baby kick yet. Or maybe I have. I'm not sure. To be honest, my heartbeat is too dang loud and powerful. Anytime I think down to where my uterus is, and try to notice anything moving or fluttering, all I feel is... my pulse. Lame. And it's hard to feel for anything in between the beats, because my heart rate is so high. My heart has been puttering along at 100-120 bpm allllll the time. It does get down to 95 bpm when I'm asleep, but still. (Don't worry, it's not unusual for your heart rate to increase during pregnancy... it's apparently secondary to increased blood volume, which is also normal in pregnancy. Who knew? Plus, my heart rate has never been impressively low, either. 80 or so bpm is my normal, in case you're curious.)

Uhhh... what else? Oh. I'm not vomiting anymore, but I still feel like throwing up most of the time. Lest you feel bad for me, I'm actually super excited about that, because it's a million billion times better than it was when I was, say, dying of dehydration. It's like it's not even fair to call this nausea anymore, it's so much better. Plus, Zofran is actually super helpful nowadays, whereas it was almost useless before. It's like I'm playing with a completely different monster here!

So yeah. Nausea, whatever. My only complaint is that the pharmacy only gave me FOUR Zofrans today despite directions to dispense 30... which is enough for like... one day. BUMMER. I guess I'll just have to go back and demand me some more Zofran... either that, or request they follow me around with a throw-up bag. Yeah, that'll work.

17W6D (And Also Some Spilling of Guts)

I took two weeks off of work--and I'm planning to go back on Tuesday, methinks. I'm throwing up a LOT less. In fact, I only puked once in the last week since the last time I got IV fluids in the ER (we were only there because it was nighttime and nowhere else was open... I wasn't dying or anything). So, I think the hyperemesis and morning sickness are finally resolving. Finally...

Even if I wasn't puking all week, I'm glad I took time off to recover. I've been really weak and really... fatigued. No, fatigued isn't the right word. Exhausted? Drained? Whatever. I've been sleeping anywhere from 8-20 hours each day... usually closer to 20 hours. If I spend too long on my feet, I get light-headed and dizzy and have to take a time out before I can do anything again. At least I am feeling better each day! I can feel my strength coming back, albeit slowly. Retaining food and water can work wonders on a malnourished and dehydrated body. Who knew?

You know what else happens when you start retaining food and water? At least in my case, you all of a sudden get a baby bump. I'm finally showing! It's not quite obvious that I'm pregnant rather than just... overfed. I do have SOME belly fat, of course, but it's getting pushed up and forward so it's suddenly obvious that I eat American food. Under the belly button, it's not fat, but a genuine baby bump. And you know what else? I've never been able to see so far into my belly button... I'm an innie, yes, but really really innie. A nice, tight, long cavern. I'm pretty sure some of the skin now exposed to the outside world has never seen daylight before this week.

I am so glad I got maternity clothes just BEFORE the bump appeared. I was already uncomfortable with pants and such squeezing me in half without the bump. And let me tell you, I'm tempted to NEVER go back. Maternity clothes are simply superior. They are designed to not squeeze your nauseous guts out. That's a plus even when you're not pregnant.

And maternity/nursing bras? A gift from God. Why don't all bra manufacturers make bras with the assumption that the wearer has sore boobs? I have to be absolutely frank here, if I'm going to talk about my boobs in public at all. I'm horrified at how monstrously big they've become. I am now the abashed owner of two DD ladies. Whaaaat? DD is the size people who get boob jobs have! And I suppose pregnant and nursing women. Oh well. At least my other half doesn't mind.

We are hoping to find out the baby's sex in a few days. Assuming he or she cooperates and willingly exposes his or her genitals to the sonographer in a feat of commendable exhibitionism, we'll know on Monday. I'm hesitant to get my hopes up though. This kid could very well be a little stinker right from the beginning.

While it's nice not to be worrying about hyperemesis or dehydration, I guess that also made way for feeling a little blue, and perhaps a little inadequate. I've debated about the wisdom of sharing the following problem with so many on the Internet. I think I'm ready to share my feelings, though, and honestly, I don't care who knows how I am feeling lately. The people who don't care will continue to not care. The people who do? Well, they'll appreciate knowing where I am. Well, here I go. Spilling my guts out.

To be honest, I'm lonely. When James is at school and I'm home all day, it's especially apparent that I don't have anyone else to spend time with. This did, of course, bother me before I was home alone all day, every day, but working all day does have its way of taking up time I would have otherwise spent feeling dejected and alone. So, I'm somewhat worried about myself for when I'll be home alone with the baby. Babies are wonderful, but adult interactions will still be missing.

When I married James and followed him up to Oregon where I knew absolutely no one, I thought it wouldn't be too hard to find a new set of friends. I mean, it wasn't so hard up at BYU, right? I don't get close to people "easily"... it takes a lot of time for me to get to know people. So, I'd first look for people I liked spending time with, and pick my friends from there.

Here's the problem, though. Despite all the wonderful people around me in Oregon, I haven't found a person I enjoy spending time with. There are plenty I don't mind spending time with, but I'm sure everyone has had the experience of finding someone you love spending time with even though you don't know this person very well. And if you're a person who, like me, often has a hard time continuing a meaningful conversation with a stranger, you're able to talk freely with this person.

I've been a little shocked and disappointed to find, to my surprise, that despite there being hundreds and thousands of people in Springfield, I have not met that kind of person in over eleven months. I suppose I was just simply "lucky" that I found so many as soon as I moved to Provo, Utah in 2007, and I shouldn't have expected the same thing to happen when I moved here in 2011.

When I'm feeling lonely, I like to pray. At least then I can feel close to Someone. I talk to Him about my loneliness, and He listens. He encourages me to be more social, and I do try. It's just that me being "social" is still closer to the "antisocial" spectrum. I don't consider myself to be shy. On the contrary, I consider myself as a bold and confident women, albeit a bold and confident quiet woman.

I keep thinking--well, there are lots of wonderful people at church. Sure, I crossed them off "my list" of people I might be able to form a connection with because I didn't feel completely comfortable with any of them, but if I uncross everybody and start with a blank slate this Sunday, maybe I'll find a hidden treasure that I overlooked before.

I don't understand. I keep uncrossing people, but I still feel... alien. Sure, I wanted the instant mini-connection.   But surely with enough time, I can get to know and become close to at least one person. Surely. Right? I don't know.

To be frank, everybody reminds me of at least one roommate I never connected with. I have a long list of former college roommates that I never formed a friendship with despite being so close (in location) to one another for several months. Those are ideal conditions for making friends, right?

My intuition about whether I'd be able to form a bond with a person never failed me in Provo. There were some people that I forced myself to spend time with and do activities with in the hopes that I was wrong, and I would find an unexpected, long sought for friend. So why should my intuition fail me now? Maybe things'll turn out the way my intuition thinks it will, but I want to at least do my best to prove it wrong. Emotions are these complicated things, aren't they?

To be honest, I've actually been feeling guilty. I sometimes blame myself for being lonely, because it sometimes feels like my own fault. I say that because I haven't invited anyone to spend time with me. 

I want to do something with someone. I could pick a person I feel at least somewhat less unconnected to and invite them to... Well, dang. I'm not sure I have a single hobby or interest I could do with someone else. Yeah, I like movies and foreign films and such, but let's be honest here. That's not really a bonding activity. G'augh. Lest you suggest any sports or games... I dislike all sports. And I don't enjoy games. I know, shocker... everyone is supposed to enjoy games, but to be absolutely, completely truthful, I don't. And I refuse to build a friendship based on an activity I dislike. I'll continue to muse, and maybe I'll come up with something.

Thanks for reading,
Jenna and Baby Alpha

Beauty

Okay. I have a HUGE issue here. I saw this article on Facebook today. I am absolutely horrified at the media's reaction to Faith Hill having the audacity to show up in public without having done her hair or makeup. Sure, the media is used to seeing her look like this, but that is no excuse for the horrible message the writer is sending to women everywhere. To quote from the article:

The usually impeccably polished Mrs. McGraw, 44, was sporting a black sweater, comfy pants, and a makeup-free face. We’re totally in support of the au natural look, but poor Faith is simply unrecognizable in her airport ensemble.

We could get past the makeup-less face (everyone has bad days, right?) but we really wish Faith had gotten her hands on a hairbrush before leaving the house. That's what ponytails are for!

Even though this startled us, we have faith that Faith will get it together next time.

First of all, when Ms. Leffler says "we're totally in support of the au natural look", I don't believe her. It's like saying "I don't mean to be rude, but... I don't like your -insert something here-." Yes, you did mean to be rude; you just wanted to get away with it.

To be honest, taking the low-quality photograph into account, raw Faith Hill looks pretty good. I think the camera flash is making her face a little washed out, but if I sat next to someone with her face on an airport, I'd think she was a pretty good-looking lady, especially if I knew she was already 44 years old. I might even compliment her.

So the message Ms. Leffler just sent to all women who read those four measly paragraphs? This is not good enough. You should be ashamed to walk out in public if you don't look like this.

If you don't think that's all that much of an issue--that really, girls know better than that--why did I have so many roommates in college who apologized profusely every time they come down for breakfast "without their face on"? Why is it that I'm more worried what the women around me think of a new haircut than what my husband thinks? (He simply doesn't care, because it doesn't significantly change what I look like to him--always beautiful. In his words, "You can look more hot... or slightly less hot... but you're still hot.")

I wish Ms. Leffler had chosen to present this message instead: "Guess what, women of the world? If you look like this without makeup, you too can look absolutely stunning with a little makeup, hair styling, and perhaps a Photoshop airbrush!" That's always nice to hear. So, since Ms. Leffler didn't send that message, let me:

Ladies, never forget that even celebrities look average "without their faces on". Don't compare your makeupless face or your unstyled hair or your unairbrushed skin to their heavily makeupped face, professionally styled hair, and airbrushed skin. Believe it or not: you are just as beautiful as the celebrities are.