Archive for January, 2010

unisom and sick kiddos

So the past week for me has been very intense with the morning sickness. The house has gone to pot. The floors are dirty, the table needs washing, and the corners of the rooms are gathering clutter as I kick things out of the way of normal traffic patterns.

I don’t care.

What I do care about is surviving the next 4 weeks. I’m beginning to wonder if that’s possible without help.

I called my mother up and tried to nonchalantly beg her to come visit. NOW. Without telling her why. I was SO CLOSE to just blurting it out! I keep setting reachable goals. Maybe I’ll feel like I can tell people when I’m 8 weeks. Then when I get there, I think maybe when I’m 9 weeks. Now I’m 10 weeks tomorrow and then I’ll reset my goal again. It makes it a little easier and it seems a little more attainable. But then, when I’m sick as a dog I just want my Momma, you know?!

So I was reading online different things women try to stave off the miseries of morning sickness, and one that consistently came up is this combination of unisom (or rather, the ingredients therein) and vitamin B6 – marketed in Canada as THE morning sickness drug. Of course, the FDA in the good ole’ US can’t approve it because it is illegal and unethical to test such new drugs out on pregnant women. Of course, late-term and partial birth abortions don’t bother their consciences in the least, but NO! No testing on pregnant women. Not that I disagree with that per se, but it does seem a little hypocritical, now, doesn’t it?

Anyway, after extensive reading on it, I decided to give it a try. I already had B6 in my cupboard, so I sent DH out to pick up some Unisom. Which he did, but he brought back these generic gel caps. What I needed were little pills I could cut in halves and quarters for daytime use. But no. Gel caps. Hmmm.

I took the first one that night – a full gell cap, in combination with a B6 pill.

We’ll see! I thought to myself, at least I’ll get a good night’s sleep if nothing else! And studies showed that many women felt so much better upon waking that I was very encouraged as I crawled in bed at 8 o’clock and promptly began drifting heavily towards sleep.

Somewhere in my groggy night I have ghostly memories of DH annoying me when the TV was still on at 9, and of him talking, actually talking to me as if I could converse intelligibly with him somewhere around 11 about puking children.

“Hhhrrunghhh”, I replied as I turned back over to face the wall instead of him.

I woke up with swollen eyes, a ring of dried blood around my mouth from cracked, chapped lips and a fogginess that took a few hours to shake off.

Lovely.

“So what was this about someone puking?”, I asked DH just before he headed off to work, leaving me in that groggy state to deal with myself and the children as best I could.

“EM kept throwing up last night and ELA would yell down through that grate that her sister had puked again. I had to change the bed 3 times.”

“WHAT?!”

Oh. My. I felt so very bad for leaving my DH in the lurch while I was contentedly passed out in our bed. Thanks to my snoring, he slept most of the night on the floor in front of the fire. Again. Poor guy.

And then he was gone.

EM continued to throw up the rest of the day. ELA and J didn’t have much of an appetite themselves, and I was.. well, sick the whole day just like I normally am these days. It was fun. We all spent the day in bed or on the couch and I got up to stoke the fire and do many many loads of laundry.

By the time DH got home, we were all piled in our bed watching Swiss Family Robinson and feeling grateful for a reprieve in the puking department. I cried as DH took the last kid upstairs to tuck in bed. I was exhausted.

No one puked in the night, thankfully, but this morning it is J’s turn to do the duty. Poor kid is so good even when he’s sick.

I hope I don’t get this on top of the constant nausea I already have. I’m already gagging enough as it is. And I’m a loud gagger. I’m so loud when I gag I can’t help but go straight from horrendous gut-wrenching heaving in the sink to tear-filled giggles. It’s ridiculous. All I keep thinking is that if I had been that loud when I heaved in college my bulemic career would have most definitely been cut short by a few years!! What happened to my handy ability to puke in silence?! Now I sound like someone is reaching in and wringing my stomach out through my throat! And, like I said, at the sound of it one can’t help but see the humor and irony in such a moment.

My one and only bright spot this week? The one redeemable memory to take with me?

I got on the scales this morning and it said 135. Crazy. I actually got off and on it a few times to check that I was doing it right. I have no idea how that happened. I’m eating way more than I was, and I’m not actually puking most of that up, so???

Oh well. I’ll take what little bit of comfort I can find right now. And.. since the sick kiddos are napping or resting on the couch between pukings, I am going to go hop in my bed and turn on a How I Met Your Mother marathon.

Advertisements

Spaghetti Sauce and Other Thoughts

I remember exactly two things about the Creative Cooking class I took junior year of high school: How to make my own spaghetti sauce and the sight of Michael Johnson standing over the sink washing dishes with a towel thrown over his shoulder.

Ah yes, my little sixteen year old self thought, a man who can cook AND cleans up afterwards. I’m STILL in love with that boy!

Even though we hadn’t spoken since, oh, about 4 months before we officially broke up when I was 12? 13? I can’t remember. We weren’t real great on communication.

I was thinking of this yesterday when I was making my homemade marinara, standing over the stove smelling the delicious aroma of fried onions and garlic. The sauce was so good I was eating it by the spoonful straight from the pan.

Yep, I am definitely craving all things tomato right now. It’s a good sign. The last time I craved tomatoes like this was when I was pregnant with J and took to bringing my own fresh tomatoes to slice on my pizza whenever we went to Pizza Hut.

As I stood there yesterday reminiscing on how thankful I am that I know how to make my own marinara I realized that the two memories – the sauce and the boy – HAD to have been obtained on the same day. In other words, the only reason I remember how to make the sauce was because that’s the day Michael Johnson was there. I don’t remember a single thing we cooked in that class other than that, not one.

After that day I actually wrote a letter to one of his friends, since I was no longer in that crew and hadn’t been for a long time. I was still completely unable to talk to boys unless I was completely unattracted to them. And if a girl was popular or pretty, I couldn’t talk to her either. So MY crew was a ragtaggle bunch of misfits that included nerds, pregnant girls, foster kids, girls who lost their virginity in the back of a truck on lunch break, and girls who were as clueless as me when it came to makeup and stylish clothes.

Of course, I never mailed the letter, or handed it to her, and not long ago I found it, in all it’s awkward glory scrawled in pencil, stuffed away in one of my school folders from long ago.

High school would definitely NOT be a phase of life I’d like to repeat! And while there are some things I’d like to go back and tell my old college self, I don’t think I’d do the same for my poor awkward high school self. That awkwardness kept me out of a LOT of trouble!

And while I know my misfit friends worried my mom a lot, I think I was good for them. I hope I helped them and that they have good memories of a Christian person, instead of being made to feel like they weren’t good enough to hang out with someone from a Christian home, or who didn’t do the same things they did. They were never turned out of our home, and I often brought one or two home for my mom to feed lunch with no warning whatsoever.

Nope, I wouldn’t change the shyness or awkwardness for just that reason. I had plenty of time in college to find my tongue, to come into a fuller sense of myself, to lose that self-consciousness enough to find freedom and adventure in abundance. I was a late bloomer. And I’m okay with that!

Indulgence

Yep, it’s official. I have lost every ounce of willpower I’d scratched out of nowhere for myself these past 6 months. It’s gone. No trace of it to be found.

Of course, this is only slightly made worse by the fact that my mother-in-law showed up for an impromptu overnight visit. Thank heavens it was a good day, and I wasn’t gagging and heaving all over the place.

As soon as she left, though…. well, pretty much after every single time I see her I’m consumed by this overwhelming feeling of entitlement to indulge every craving and whim that pops into my head! Yay! I survived! Where’s the cookies? And coffee? And VODKA???

So yesterday when I went to pick up J we went straight to the movie store, where I picked up the next 2 discs of Dollhouse even though I had 2 discs of Lie to Me already at home thanks to Netflix, then we headed to the grocery store where we picked up exactly 3 items: donuts, oreos, and a box of Honey Nut Cheerios.

We went home, unloaded our goodies, and the kids watched Diego while I ate my donut, followed by 5 oreos and a glass of milk, and watched 3 consecutive episodes of Dollhouse.

Yep.

Morning Sickness

m/s hit me full on yesterday. You know, the all-day nothing sounds good/tastes good/smells good in the entire house but if I don’t eat something I’ll be puking nothing the rest of the day? That’s the stuff.

I lost count of how many times I gagged and dry heaved today. Never was much of a puker during pregnancy, strangely. Just a gagger. I laid on the couch all morning while the girls watched cartoons and every time I moved I gagged. Forced myself to get up and clean the girls’ room, which was #1 out of 2 things on my to-do list today. Gagged my way through that. ELA thought it was hilarious. *sigh*

Good to know it’s only going to pick up momentum over the next two weeks until I’m nearly incapacitated and can’t drink water and then hold steady for another few weeks until it finally starts to ease up aroun 7 weeks from now!!! Oh yea!!!

So here is my real ticker:

and here is my “fake” ticker that I’m considering giving to my family so mom will come when I want her to come.
Lilypie Pregnancy tickers

I figured I’d go with a due date of 8/31 so I could still say I was due the end of August and not confuse myself completely. It’s 10 days difference – should give me enough room to throw my mom off

I may still chicken out about a free birth. I want a home birth, but I also find so much comfort in seeing Jan. I don’t know. I’m a little more on the fence than I thought I’d be. There’s something comforting about someone taking care of you and telling you what needs to be done without getting too pushy or personal. There’s a level of pushing off the responsibility to someone else that I like. Sometimes the thought of having a 4th child is utterly terrifying and overwhelming.