02.02.08
I’ve survived another week – hooray! I can’t believe I’m starting week 18 of my pregnancy already. God, it’s still going? Looking back on the start, I should be impressed with myself and I will be once the bratz are out of my womb. It’s good to reminisce.
Weeks 0 – 5 Gestation
Non existent really. Life was normal and ignorance was bliss, not to mention mojo was rampant (but I won’t go there). I got up in the morning, went to work, came home and thought nothing is going to change. Boy, the week after was to going to rock that impression – big time.
Weeks 6 – 8 Gestation
Hell! Pure and absolute hell. At first I felt queasy in the stomach and my head ache. “Must be the flu,” I cursed to myself and started guzzling down pills to make me feel better. The situation only got worse. By Wednesday, I was regurgitating breakfast over the bathroom sink and collapsing to the ground in five second comas (and this isn’t with a drop of alcohol in my blood which is bloody shame). At this stage, my partner suggests, “luff I think it’s time for a trip to the doctors.” I wasn’t in the mood to argue, so to the doctors we go.
I get my blood checked, prodded in the back and stomach. The doctor writes his notes in a folder dedicated to me and casually asks for a urine sample.
“What for?” I ask with a frown.
He replies as if I had just asked him to give me an enema. “To test for pregnancy of course!”
At this point, my brain is throbbing with “huh?” and I can see my partner go stiff. After a bit of prompting, I stagger towards the bathroom and struggle to get a sample without leaving traces around the toilet bowl. I shuffle back into the room and sit down suddenly feeling exhausted. The doctor runs a test and after two minutes smiles.
“Well, good news, you don’t have the flu,” he declares and shows us the bright pink end on a fancy dipstick thing.
The throbbing persists into a thumping ache at the back of my head. I hardly hear the doctor as he writes out a few referrals and a medical certificate for work. The reality of his words sink in when I’m sitting in the car next to my partner. “You bastard!” I scream out and start to cry, thinking my life is over.
It’s almost as if discovering the pregnancy has given my symptoms licence to go wild. The next morning, I empty everything into the toilet bowl. The world spins around me; head aches are persistent and my body is zapped of strength. This continues for the next few days until I’m a weak heap of flesh on the bed and the best entertainment for me is watching the ceiling fan spin round and round. My partner hovers around me afraid or uncertain what to do. Don’t blame him. It doesn’t help when I’m constantly moaning with words dying, hurt and crap thrown in. Nothing improves by the end of the week and it’s back to the doctors we go.
“Take one of these a day,” he says, scribbling out a script for Stemetil suppositories, “and eat cold food.”
What the hell, I’ll give it a go. I position the Stemetil as far as it can go and nibble on biscuits, fruit and other cold foods. They don’t stay in the stomach for long or even have a chance to get there. So, I try ginger ale/tea/biscuits/lollies and everything else ginger. Nup. I go for cranberry juice, soda water. Nup again. Everything comes up and by now, I’m aching in the stomach, my chest is burning and I want someone to shoot me. Worse, it’s nearing Christmas and I’m worried I can’t get everything done. I haven’t even got presents yet! “Is this because you hate me God?” I cry out and find some relief collapsing into the unconscious.
Back to the doctors (at this stage I’m cursing at the costs piling up). He gives me another script for the suppositories and tells me to try Ensure. Okay, lets go. I try to guzzle down the Ensure which tastes vile and feel like sighing with relief when it comes back up. Water is now my stomach’s public enemy no.1 and my partner is pulling his hair out at what to do. Luckily, he’s a social creature and talks with a neighbour who is a mid-wife (of all the luck). She tells him to go to the hospital and say, “she has, Hyperemesis Gravidarum.”
Off to the hospital and the emergency ward we go. Partner fills in the forms whilst I moan and die in a chair nearby. Typical of the writer in me that I still observe the walks of life going around me. I’m not sure if most people would see ER wards this way, but it’s like an overcrowded train station. There are those that wait patiently; not wanting to cause a fuss. The ones easily bored and fidgeting with everything they see (that’s why all chairs are free from plastic bits). Then there are the couples arguing and staging domestic entertainment for everyone else. And so much security wandering around and keeping tabs on people.
Lucky for me, I’m taken to a bed after 20 minutes of waiting (world record I think) and treated straight away.
The nurse fiddles with my wrist to get a vein popping and, after three tries, inserts a drip into me. Overnight, I’m given twelve bags of saline.
“You’re lucky you got here while you did,” one of the nurses said to me.
Apparently, I was heavily dehydrated and could’ve suffered a heart attack or worse if the condition was left untreated. I just smile and say thanks; grateful for life in my body again. I spend three more days in hospital for treatment and released on the forth.
“Ah finally I can be normal again,” I breath out as I come home. Spoke too soon. Within a few hours of being home I’m performing the regurgitators number one hits again (including belly-up, jerky-jerk stomach dance and projectile Jackson Pollacks). The rotating ceiling fan is my favourite show again.
Three days later I’m back in hospital, on a drip and watching Simpson reruns on Fox8. I think I know some of the show’s scripts off by heart still. I spend another four days there and eventually discharged with a new batch of drugs. I’m starting to wonder if my babies will come out addicts. Zofran is the new fix and it’s some fix.
Finally, I’m home and able to manage myself (all two days before Christmas). My Jackson Pollacks are now limited to early morning, evening and late night. Although, I find a tight compaction around the uranus area which causes some, um, yeah. Eventually, I’m able to find relief and now life is looking for the better.
Weeks 9 – 16 Gestation
Slowly and surely, my situation improves. I’m back at work; travelling the 2 hour toilet-trains to and fro and handling other peoples’ technical issues.
Morning still has signs of a No.5 in the toilet bowl but I have a new problem now. I’m dramatically loosing weight and suffering a good ole UTI (burn baby burn disco inferno burn baby burn). Plus the flu I thought I had in the beginning has finally arrived and I’m smiling out of my…
Anyway, back to the doctors I go and get a good dose of antibiotics to stop the disco inferno from my nether regions (you’re fired!). I think at this point, the list of medication I’ve had is:
Maxalon
Stemetil
Zofran
Some amoxicillion-voodoo-hoodoo
Other stuff I can’t pronounce or remember to spell because it’s written in a dead language
Oh and I have a new condition Gestation Hyperthyroid (love those fancy, big words). It’s nothing serious just my metabolism is running on ludicrous speed :0). I’m sure people are saying “I want that!”
Week 17 – 18 Gestation
I’m better now. I can eat (up to 1:00pm then it’s bloat sailing all the way to Lalaland). I don’t have any infections or other ailments to worry about. Now, the babies are making their presence known. I feel them move and I think they’re playing skipping with the umbilical cord. I’m entering a new stage of pregnancy and I’m not going to whinge about it here.
So, my life in the last 3-4 months or so. Still think my partner’s a bastard for doing this do me but, hey, I love him and he’s the best for wanting to be there for me and keeping the house running. Not too mention ensuring my girl is well feed and looked after. Legendary man.
For anyone contemplating pregnancy. Let me tell you this, it’s an experience you won’t forget :0)
Peace.
