i just read this on http://www.babble.com/CS/blogs/strollerderby/archive/2007/08/10/antepartum-depression-not-every-pregnant-woman-glows.aspx
"Being pregnant is like have a great sports car you've driven and taken care of all your life and having to let some stranger drive it for nine months while you sit in the back seat of your own car feeling cramped and nauseous and not being able to see out or even see the person driving. "
It made me cry and laugh at the exact same moment- a bit of a strange feeling. I don't know if I'm suffering from actual depression in pregnancy, but I have all these fears and worries and I just really don't feel like myself and I get so scared that I'm never going to feel healthy again. I am sicky again today and I just don't know how to explain it. I don't feel like doing anything and my house is a mess and my husband has to do everything. He is so cheerful and helpful and amazing and I admire him so much and I just am so mad at myself, like I don't measure up. It scares me that he might get sick of me and leave me, and I'm scared I'm going to still be lazy after the baby is born. My breasts leaked again yesterday and everything suddenly became very real. I sat right down and found us a new, more baby friendly, house. We can put the deposit down today if we want to. But even though I got exactly what I want, I still feel totally freaked out by making sudden changes. It's like I move slow, slow, FAST, and I just can't wrap my head around it. I can't figure out for the life of me what to do about leaky boobs. I don't even know where to buy breast pads. It's like it represents so much I don't know how to handle, and don't feel like asking because I just don't want to be even more vulnerable to the people around me. A friend told me she had a lot going on in her life, but she would wait to tell me until after the baby was born. Why? I want to hear now, except I feel so nauseous and don't know how to respond with energy to her stories. It suddenly occurred to me that she has no idea how to deal with me pregnant, and I have no idea how to deal with me pregnant. I have been so emotional and self centered and its like I'm losing people who are important to me. I've always been a party person, and my best friends are these fiercely independent women who aren't married or pregnant and I feel so, I don't know, different from myself. At the exact same time, when I'm feeling moderately healthy, I feel even more myself. Like I'm back in touch with some of my instincts and I remember some of the music I used to love- rocked out to Girls on Top the other day and felt like myself for the first time in ages. But nothing used to scare me. I had to search for my mom's dead body a couple times, which is a very scary experience, but I always did it, I never called for help. Now I'm scared to death that the grocery store near our new house is just too far away in the winter because it is a 20 minute walk. I'm scared I'm about to get stuck in some sick suburbia, even though we are simply moving to another English village, which should feel adventurous and kind of cool. I want to burn creative energy, but I don't want to spend a single dime because I want the baby to have everything and money is very tight. My husband said that he just doesn't want to pay his student loans because we can't afford it and was talking in a very strange way about it, and I felt so helpless and desperate because what if it affects our life in the future. He was mostly kidding, but I can't get it out my head. Since when do I think about fiscal responsibility? Since my parents marriage broke up because my dad is always bankrupt and didn't tell my mom that the house was foreclosed on until she came home and found a huge sign across the door. It's funny, I don't want to own property or live in suburbia or give up my free spiritness because of a child, yet I am so scared to close any doors. It's like I can't commit to anything because I can't predict anything. It just feels like a blank hole. And don't even get me started about school! I should be doing work, we can't afford tuition next semester so I should be applying for funding, but I can't seem to get my brain working. I just feel so irresponsible. My advisor thinks I should try a medical leave of absence next semester, but that doesn't solve the funding problem in the spring. And I'm so scared to give up on my PhD because it seems like it is the only thing standing between a healthy life, and turning into a depressed stay at home mom like my mother. I just feel so lost. I tried to explain it to another friend last night but it just came across like I was whining about my life and the fact that our families want us to come home again for another whirlwind Christmas trip to multiple states next year and I just don't feel like I can handle it, even if they contribute the funds. I just feel so weak and like I can't handle anything. And I feel like nobody understands.
Thursday 25 March 2010
Tuesday 23 March 2010
24 weeks, 6 days
So, big surprise, I've been tired and a little sicky the past two days. No real pain, just kind of under the weather. We were out of groceries and I had very few low fat options in the house and I think I've been a bit hungry too. Actually, when the groceries came today I scarfed down an entire pack of tortellini and an orange and could have kept going- which is hard to imagine because a stomach couldn't possibly be bigger than a pack of tortellini, so I guess "the hunger" has kind of set it. This is probably good because I don't have much of an appetite, don't feel like eating, and being hungry kind of forces me to. Also, I still haven't gained any weight- although the internet assures me that I'd better brace myself, it's about to start. Anyways, I've been taking it easy and lying around and I woke up after a(nother) nap, came downstairs, and found a wet spot on my shirt over my right breast! Breast leakage! Whoa. It has left a mark, and I feel strangely embarrassed by it. I don't know why it makes me feel so embarrassed, but I keep covering it up and covering my face if my husband asks if I "got milk". It's like a deep seated, irrational embarrassment, which is kind of funny, cuz I'm also kind of proud of it. Hmmm, a boob that can make milk- wow- what a trip. Moooo!
So, another change is the groin kicking has stopped as suddenly as it started. He seems to have moved up and can't reach my vag anymore. He is still trying, he gets going and kicks and hits on all parts of my belly, but he just can't seem to reach down low. Ha! I am forming a very light linea nigra- have been thinking I can see it for a few weeks now. I also have a very small stretch mark on my left belly, and some strange marks around my belly. I asked my sister about her experience with stretch marks and she said that it was one of the things that made her really resent my mother being dead- that it is hereditary and we don't have our mom around to ask. She said she got stretch marks mostly on her thighs, and they have gone away quickly. I don't remember my mom having very many stretch marks. My sister thinks that the marks around my belly button could possibly be bruising and that they might go away sooner rather than later.
Baby and I have both been kind of tired the past two days- he seems less active and I'm a hell of a lot less active, which almost always seems to correspond with a growth spurt in my belly, but one funny thing happened. My husband was playing his drums, which often wakes the baby up and gets him moving. I usually think it is super fun. But this time, the baby was rocking out, top and bottom of belly, when my husband sped up his beat. I wondered if the baby would speed up to. But no, he totally stopped. He was over it- that beat was just too fast. :)
So, another change is the groin kicking has stopped as suddenly as it started. He seems to have moved up and can't reach my vag anymore. He is still trying, he gets going and kicks and hits on all parts of my belly, but he just can't seem to reach down low. Ha! I am forming a very light linea nigra- have been thinking I can see it for a few weeks now. I also have a very small stretch mark on my left belly, and some strange marks around my belly. I asked my sister about her experience with stretch marks and she said that it was one of the things that made her really resent my mother being dead- that it is hereditary and we don't have our mom around to ask. She said she got stretch marks mostly on her thighs, and they have gone away quickly. I don't remember my mom having very many stretch marks. My sister thinks that the marks around my belly button could possibly be bruising and that they might go away sooner rather than later.
Baby and I have both been kind of tired the past two days- he seems less active and I'm a hell of a lot less active, which almost always seems to correspond with a growth spurt in my belly, but one funny thing happened. My husband was playing his drums, which often wakes the baby up and gets him moving. I usually think it is super fun. But this time, the baby was rocking out, top and bottom of belly, when my husband sped up his beat. I wondered if the baby would speed up to. But no, he totally stopped. He was over it- that beat was just too fast. :)
Saturday 20 March 2010
24 weeks
Well, I've been a little MIA because I just haven't been feeling good and didn't feel like complaining in a blog. But, the good news is, I'm now improving fairly rapidly, just not immediately, like I wanted. I can now walk almost as fast as most people, and my pain is very reduced. I needed pain killers last Thursday during the day, which made me cry because I could feel the baby jumping around so much and I just hated to sedate him. But the doctors have reassured me that my very infrequent use of codeine is perfectly fine for the baby, so I am choosing to believe them. I went to the hospital last Thursday and it was yet another very unsatisfying NHS experience, where the doctor didn't bother to read my file before talking to me, and simply asked what was wrong with me, and then told me I was fine. Not very reassuring. They always think I'm there to talk about my fibroid as well, which is odd because any body who actually has a look at it doesn't seem the least bit bothered, and I would rather not focus on a non existent negative. Then, totally randomly, I blacked out in the examination room. Suddenly it was decided that I am anemic and that I'd better get this under control before it gets even worse. Again, they didn't draw any more blood, they simply read what they had skipped reading in my chart from before. They agreed to let me wait on taking iron pills until I'm done with the pain pills, and have tried some dietary changes. I don't think I blacked out cuz of anemia, although my iron levels are ever so slightly low. I think I was very nervous, was very scared of bad news, and while no news is good news, I just wanted to hear more than nothing, so I'm not exactly happy about it all. Luckily I have another appointment Monday at the good hospital and although I think I will get a lecture about using both hospitals, contrary to how the NHS like to operate, I think they will be much more thorough and possibly reassure me better. What I really want to hear is that I am low risk and still clear for a home birth. While I'm not sure I want a home birth, and won't know until I see the place we move into, I just want the option. I also want the pain to go away, so I can deal with one kind of pain at a time. The doctor said that I might just have pain for my whole pregnancy, but I don't believe her. I am feeling pretty good when I don't wear myself out, don't sit in the same position for too long, and don't eat fatty foods, so in a few more months I think I should be much better. I guess I would like both a doctor and a psychic.
We went to London on Wednesday, and stayed through Thursday night. I needed the codeine each day, both times after the long train ride and questionable food. I can't believe how hard it is to find a low fat meal at a restaurant. I always thought it was easy, but there are lots of hidden fats and cooking methods that add fat. I am shocked by the choices I would have made if I wasn't forced to watch my diet. I always think of myself as a healthy eater, and a look at my food diary proves that I am, but I make a lot of exceptions and special treats when I'm out, which has got to add up, so this has been quite an education! But London was great, and even though I couldn't walk around as much as I wanted, and had to go straight to bed after arriving on Wednesday afternoon, we did a lot of stuff. We ate at an amazing Polish restaurant, I didn't know that I'd never had Polish food before! It was so fun and the chef was so sweet and came and checked on us and even though the place was empty and cold with construction guys walking around, we had a ton of fun. On Thursday we saw Billy Elliot in a very cheap mantinee show, and had dinner at one of those fair trade super liberal and proud of themselves restaurants. It was good, although the smell of smug in the air was a bit stifling. We went to London because my husband had a very important funding interview, but I don't want to jinx it by talking about it too much. Will talk about it more when he gets it. ;)
As far as the baby, he seems to be doing great. My stomach has again made a jump in size and I'm pretty sure people can tell I'm pregnant now. Either way, there isn't really a way to hide it. I sat next to a 9 month pregnant woman at the fresh food restaurant and even though she was a much thinner person than me, I couldn't believe how big she was, and what I'm in for. Yikes! The baby hasn't done much except for a newly developed habit of kicking me in the groin. It is pretty uncomfortable, feels like he is kicking me in the vagina and butt! I looked it up on the internet and it turns out that it is pretty common for the 24th-ish week, so I guess I'd better suck it up- people in the chatrooms made kicks in the ribs sound so much more uncomfortable, so I'll appreciate what I'm getting. :) (Ooh, now a super pregnant woman has sat down in the cafe next to me- I never noticed how many people are pregnant before!) There were a few moments in London where I felt kind of uncool about being pregnant. Like, there were all these glam independent London girls and here I was wearing pregnancy jeans and holding on to the tube railings for dear life. But everytime I thought I was the only pregnant woman alive, another one would walk by and I would feel really proud to be a part of this special club.
We went to London on Wednesday, and stayed through Thursday night. I needed the codeine each day, both times after the long train ride and questionable food. I can't believe how hard it is to find a low fat meal at a restaurant. I always thought it was easy, but there are lots of hidden fats and cooking methods that add fat. I am shocked by the choices I would have made if I wasn't forced to watch my diet. I always think of myself as a healthy eater, and a look at my food diary proves that I am, but I make a lot of exceptions and special treats when I'm out, which has got to add up, so this has been quite an education! But London was great, and even though I couldn't walk around as much as I wanted, and had to go straight to bed after arriving on Wednesday afternoon, we did a lot of stuff. We ate at an amazing Polish restaurant, I didn't know that I'd never had Polish food before! It was so fun and the chef was so sweet and came and checked on us and even though the place was empty and cold with construction guys walking around, we had a ton of fun. On Thursday we saw Billy Elliot in a very cheap mantinee show, and had dinner at one of those fair trade super liberal and proud of themselves restaurants. It was good, although the smell of smug in the air was a bit stifling. We went to London because my husband had a very important funding interview, but I don't want to jinx it by talking about it too much. Will talk about it more when he gets it. ;)
As far as the baby, he seems to be doing great. My stomach has again made a jump in size and I'm pretty sure people can tell I'm pregnant now. Either way, there isn't really a way to hide it. I sat next to a 9 month pregnant woman at the fresh food restaurant and even though she was a much thinner person than me, I couldn't believe how big she was, and what I'm in for. Yikes! The baby hasn't done much except for a newly developed habit of kicking me in the groin. It is pretty uncomfortable, feels like he is kicking me in the vagina and butt! I looked it up on the internet and it turns out that it is pretty common for the 24th-ish week, so I guess I'd better suck it up- people in the chatrooms made kicks in the ribs sound so much more uncomfortable, so I'll appreciate what I'm getting. :) (Ooh, now a super pregnant woman has sat down in the cafe next to me- I never noticed how many people are pregnant before!) There were a few moments in London where I felt kind of uncool about being pregnant. Like, there were all these glam independent London girls and here I was wearing pregnancy jeans and holding on to the tube railings for dear life. But everytime I thought I was the only pregnant woman alive, another one would walk by and I would feel really proud to be a part of this special club.
Friday 5 March 2010
22 weeks- exciting things
Well, this baby is a mover! He jumps all over the place and got really good at kicking the doppler while I was in the hospital. One of the midwives told me that I'd better get ready for an active baby, but the movements just mostly make me laugh. He gets the most excited after I eat something, but he also likes it when I lie down for bed or when my husband and I are talking. Oh, and my husband felt him move! I was in the hospital and the baby was partaking in another marathon session, and my husband was able to feel it! It was very exciting. I can also see my stomach moving when he kicks, which is pretty funny. I'm hoping to be able to catch it on video soon.
The other thing that I found out is that I haven't gained any weight. Not even a pound! Of course I have mixed feelings about this. My husband thinks the weight is simply redistributing, but I think I may have lost weight during this pregnancy because I have been sick most of the time, and also during my hospital stay. I suspect that the weight gain is about to start up, so I'll only be smug for a few seconds, but it did make me feel better that I'm not totally pigging out and gaining to much weight, cuz I was worried about that. Oh, and don't tell my boobs or belly that I'm not gaining weight- they don't know it and keep growing and growing. I swear, I've got porn star boobs. Oh, and porn star nails too.
I died my multicolored blondish hair all one color the other day, and while I definitely look better as a blonde, I'm so happy I did it and got it over with. And I actually kind of like how it looks. I will prefer my natural color when that comes back, but that won't be for a long time because my hair is so long. I just like not being a slave to my hair, which is how I was beginning to feel. Blonde is a strange, and strangely large part, of my identity, so it has been a refreshing experience to shed the light blonde, even if I'm still a dark blonde. Whoat, can I say blonde any more times? Brace yourself, I'm not above talking about lip gloss either.
Oh, and finally, my nipples swell. What's up with that? They've been doing it since about 11 weeks, so it isn't new, but it is weird. It usually happens at night, and mostly to the right nipple, and it is totally weird. I hope it isn't going to mess with breastfeeding. I asked my sister about it when I was home and she said that her nipples got swollen kind of suddenly at the end of her pregnancy. This is more like a daily thing for me. It's like my nipples are allergic to something, which is kind of funny. "No, I can't eat that, my nipples are allergic."
The other thing that I found out is that I haven't gained any weight. Not even a pound! Of course I have mixed feelings about this. My husband thinks the weight is simply redistributing, but I think I may have lost weight during this pregnancy because I have been sick most of the time, and also during my hospital stay. I suspect that the weight gain is about to start up, so I'll only be smug for a few seconds, but it did make me feel better that I'm not totally pigging out and gaining to much weight, cuz I was worried about that. Oh, and don't tell my boobs or belly that I'm not gaining weight- they don't know it and keep growing and growing. I swear, I've got porn star boobs. Oh, and porn star nails too.
I died my multicolored blondish hair all one color the other day, and while I definitely look better as a blonde, I'm so happy I did it and got it over with. And I actually kind of like how it looks. I will prefer my natural color when that comes back, but that won't be for a long time because my hair is so long. I just like not being a slave to my hair, which is how I was beginning to feel. Blonde is a strange, and strangely large part, of my identity, so it has been a refreshing experience to shed the light blonde, even if I'm still a dark blonde. Whoat, can I say blonde any more times? Brace yourself, I'm not above talking about lip gloss either.
Oh, and finally, my nipples swell. What's up with that? They've been doing it since about 11 weeks, so it isn't new, but it is weird. It usually happens at night, and mostly to the right nipple, and it is totally weird. I hope it isn't going to mess with breastfeeding. I asked my sister about it when I was home and she said that her nipples got swollen kind of suddenly at the end of her pregnancy. This is more like a daily thing for me. It's like my nipples are allergic to something, which is kind of funny. "No, I can't eat that, my nipples are allergic."
Gall Stones!
Well, I am in the hospital and have been since Thursday night (it is now Sunday), and the reason is... Gall Stones! Nasty little things. I've been in a lot of pain, but I think the worst might be over. We went for our very exciting 20 week scan on Thursday morning, went out to dinner to celebrate our little munchkin, and was back in the hospital at about 9 pm with the most excruciating pain I've ever been in. It was crazy. Luckily I've blocked a bit of it out, but my poor husband remembers every excruciating second. When the pain started, which was quite sudden and became bad pretty quickly, we called the MAC unit to see what to do. The lady on the phone predicted gall stones because my pain was in my middle, upper back and nowhere near the baby. She told us to skip the A&E and go straight to the delivery suite because that is where they would send us anyways. In hindsight that may not have been the best place to go, but at the time we didn't know what the problem was yet, so they would probably have not dealt with me in the A&E anyways. Nothing seems to scare medical staff like a pregnant woman, so the maternity unit ends up dealing with a lot of different conditions that may not be related to pregnancy. Anyways, the first few hours sucked. It was hard to get the ball rolling, hard to get attention, and very frustrating dealing with what seemed like a slightly incompetant staff. They didn't pass information on to each other, and I had to explain about 6 times that the medication they gave me first had made me throw up blood. It was right there in my notebook, but they weren't bothering to read it! My husband nearly lost it, but then the morphine they gave me started to work and I was in less pain and it didn't matter as much if I couldn't get the attention of anybody. Spending the night in a delivery suite was pretty amazing. I heard women giving birth all night, and it really didn't sound like it does in the movies. I was making way more noise with my screams of pain, which wouldn't let up for several hours, than the laboring women were. I mostly heard 1-2 screams, and then a baby cry, and then somebody say something along the lines of "my baby!" It was really amazing. My husband and I both teared up a few times because we were so touched.
Eventually, and I can't remember why, they moved me to the labor ward, which was a lot less action packed. I liked the new midwife and I wasn't having as much trouble talking people into medication for pain. In fact, they wanted to give it to me at a faster rate than I was asking
continued a week later....
The night nurse in the labor ward was great, she was funny and kind and interested in what was going on. The Friday day nurse was very nice as well, and was able to answer my questions and put me at ease. I have learned that nurses, or in this case, midwives, can make a huge difference in your experience of illness. My mood and fear level for my entire hospital stay was directly linked to the midwife team on call. I didn't need a ton of attention, but if they were kind and calm, I felt like everything was going to be fine and that being in a hospital was just a precaution. If they were either hyper or distant or unresponsive, I felt very nervous, like something odd and out of a TV medical drama was about to happen to me or the baby, and this seemed to make both my pain and my emotional capacity far worse.
Anyways, I was sent to another ultrasound that afternoon to look for gallstones. How is that for ironic? Here I was whining that I wish I had more ultrasounds and I got two in a row. Of course, this one was more serious, nobody was getting trained, and it was interesting to see how a fully trained professional handles an ultrasound- she was a lot more confident and told me more about what was going on. I really enjoyed it, and got to see the baby again! They found that sure enough, I did have gallstones, and that also I had an inflamed gall bladder which meant I had a gall bladder infection. The doctors had already suspected this and I shrugged it off. I didn't know that it would keep me in the hospital for several more days, or that it is considered a particularly nasty infection. I'm so glad I didn't understand this because I would have been a lot more scared than I was. The infection is called Acute Cholecystitis and while I may have had gall stones for a long time, this attack was most likely brought on by my pregnancy and not something else about me. I was just happy because my pain was finally responding to the pain killers and while I didn't like how high the morphine made me, I can't believe how necessary it was!
Anyways, at about 6ish I was visited by the first of many surgeons. He asked me about my medical history and what medications I'm on. It was interesting for me to see how I again underplay certain elements of my health. I told him I have no health problems, and then told him about the two inhalers I use for my asthma. He was like, ok, start over, you have asthma, are there any other health things going on with you? It's not like I'm not a drama queen, but I always underplay the things that are actually going on, like a family history of mental illness- which I never know when to bring up and skipped on this trip, or my lung/asthma issues, which seem so small compared to the asthma issues many people go through. Asthma probably is never going to kill me, and I forget that it's an issue at all. Anyways, I can't totally remember the details of the meeting, but he basically said what was said for the rest of my hospital experience- that they don't like operating on pregnant women because of the potential dangers of anaesthesia to the fetus, but that that risk is overridden if the operation becomes life saving. Okey dokey. Oh, and that they would watch the infection and hopefully take out my gall bladder after I deliver the baby.
The third day, Saturday, the nurses really couldn't be bothered with me. I couldn't decide if this was a good sign, that I wasn't an acute case, or if they really were being negligent. Even when I was throwing up my latest meal, which happened daily for a little while, they just came in, removed the throw up bucket, and went back to laughing and talking to each other. It was kind of strange. And I had to beg for pain killers, which was pretty humiliating. I was frustrated because the codeine seemed to be making me throw up, and didn't seem to be working anyways, but they were holding out on the morphine because it is a more controlled drug and they needed two nurses to get it. I understand that, but the tactic of just stalling did not help me make informed choices, it just made me kind of paranoid. Later in the day an entire surgical team visited me. Suddenly the nurses were very attentive, and I became a priority, slightly suspicious if you ask me. Of course, I was punished for this because as soon as the surgeons heard I was having trouble keeping food and medication down I had an AWFUL permanent needle put in my wrist for fluids. I had just talked them into taking the other one out, so I was pretty grossed out. It hurt and was gross, but that's it. I just got the heebie jeebies from it. So, this team decided to move me to another hospital, where the gall bladder surgery unit is actually housed, and I was moved a few hours later by a very bouncy ambulance ride, and a very friendly ambulance driver. I was in enough pain that I couldn't really talk, but she was so cute and they played hip hop music and it all seemed so inappropriate, yet so comforting, that I really liked the trip.
I was put in the maternity ward of the second hospital and met by a vastly superior set of midwives. Throughout the rest of my stay, this team totally outperformed the other team in all ways. They were fun, and interesting, and liked to talk about stuff and I learned about their lives and what it's like to be a midwife and they were great. In fact, I would switch to this hospital to deliver my baby if they had a water birth option, but they don't, so I'm still in limbo land about where and how to give birth.
The days here kind of run into each other. For almost the entire stay there was talk of me being moved up to the surgical ward because I was actually a surgical patient. But even when they settled in on deciding what to do, there were still no beds in surgery, and I didn't want to leave anyways. I called it the princess ward. It was so nice, there were only pregnant people, not sick people, and I could talk on my phone or play on my computer or walk around (not that I could get very far) or do whatever I wanted. I had my own room and while the tv was placed in an impossible to view spot, the room had a sink and a drawer and a quintessential English landscape view, and it was great. I was able to inform my relatives about where I was, and was surprised by the instant response I got from them- they have a tendency to be very distant. Even the nun aunt who boycotted my wedding because it wasn't in a church, was responsive, which was very nice because while she will never be a mother figure, she is my mom's sister and I really appreciated her support. In fact, the only one who wasn't very responsive was my best friend. More on that another time.
The other nice thing that started to happen was I started to be able to hold down my food (a few days later) and I started to respond to the codeine, so I could quit the humiliating morphine. I was started on a nasty dose of antibiotics, that made me pretty sick, but it definitely felt worth it, I can handle pain if I know everything is okay. It's when pain and fear intertwine that things get hard for me.
So, that's basically it. Once I was able to keep down food for a few days I was allowed to start taking the antibiotics by mouth. I was pretty immobilized for many of the days, and a short walk was pretty painful and took a lot out of me, but I improved daily, and the last day I was able to pick out some food in the cafeteria and eat it with my husband. I also, after a few days, started to realize that the ward was not as comfortable as I originally thought, with women screaming and vomiting in pain, but this indicated to me that I was doing better because I hadn't even noticed that stuff before. The best moment, even better than my discharge, was getting that damn wired contraption out of my hand. It was so gross and I still have a cut on my hand to show for it, although the bruise is mostly gone. I'll post a picture if I can find one. It really creeped me out.
MY AWESOME HUSBAND
So, I am now convinced that one of the reasons why I was able to go home when I did was because of my amazing husband. He slept in a horrible chair the first two nights I was in the hospital (!) and then for the next days he came early in the morning and stayed with me until late at night. He was amazing at helping me understand what was going on, and at helping me emotionally stay strong. I always knew he was amazing, but he set a new standard in amazingness, I'm not sure I would do as well as he did, I just appreciate it so much. After I was discharged I thought things were going to be better/easier, but they actually got a bit worse for a little while. I had the harsh realization of how sick I was when I absolutely couldn't understand my medical routine and my husband had to be my full time drug dealer. I was taking 7 pills several times a day and I wouldn't have been able to do it without him. Well, I don't think that they would have let me go if it wasn't for him. I truly didn't understand how sick I was. With the realization of how sick I was, I became very upset and scared. The one year anniversary of my very close friend's sudden death fell on the Saturday I was in the hospital, and once the realization of how sick I was hit me, the fear and weight of my own mortality smashed into me like a ton of bricks. I was really spooked, and also really sad all over again about my friend. She died of a nasty infection that went septic. That could have happened to me. It happened in less than a week for her and I miss her so much. Why did she have to die while I got to improve and go home? There is no answer, but my husband was amazing at helping me deal with all of this through a pain filled codeine induced haze. I have never said anything like this, and will probably never say anything like it again, but he is my angel and I credit him with so much- is it cheesy that I believe he saved my life?
THE INCREDIBLE SELF OBSESSION OF ILLNESS
So, I'll probably have more to say once this is all over and I'm not in pain or tired anymore, but I have to say that my illness made me crazy self absorbed. Facebook was great cuz I could publish updates and get responses from friends and feel a lot of support. Without that I think I would have called my sister nightly just to get attention. And I was not short on attention, I just wanted more. I couldn't ask how other people were doing, I could only update them on myself. I couldn't even think about anybody outside of myself, except maybe the baby... maybe. It was a little crazy. Kind of like having a birthday for a whole week, and judging people's response to it and equating it to how much they cared about me. The reality is that everybody (except for one person) came through, and while I would have been crucified if I didn't send something to my mother in law when she was hospitalized, yet nothing was sent to me, I got way better. I really saw my family in action and it was nice. Of course, my dad went to Asia for a month the day before I was discharged, and I'm a little upset by how he seems to have disappeared into another continent and forgotten about me (indicates the self obsession isn't over because he has emailed twice and called on skype numerous times, but I haven't been on at the time), but that is as much my fault as his- I spent a lot of time telling people I was just fine, when it turned out I wasn't as great as I thought I was. I hope this self obsession has calmed down a bit, and I now can understand a bit more about what I would do if somebody I loved was in the hospital, so this has been an amazing learning experience for me.
AFTERMATH
I have to be on a low fat diet. That's it. Not too bad, not that big of a deal. In the past month I had been eating more cheese and big ole cadbury chocolate bars, so that stuff had to go, but for the most part, I already ate a low fat diet and this has not been that much of a challenge. Of course, I was a bit confused about what a low fat diet actually is, but my husband set up an appointment with a colleague of his that is a dietician, and she said we were doing fine. I think my sister mourned my low fat diet more than I have, she was really upset about my not getting to eat junk food for the rest of my pregnancy because that is what she loved most, but I'm kind of relieved because I was slipping down a junk food slope, and I already struggle with my weight a lot, so being forced to cut back is a good thing. Trust me, there is no motivation like crazy, shrieking, writhing, scaring everybody around you, pain.
Eventually, and I can't remember why, they moved me to the labor ward, which was a lot less action packed. I liked the new midwife and I wasn't having as much trouble talking people into medication for pain. In fact, they wanted to give it to me at a faster rate than I was asking
continued a week later....
The night nurse in the labor ward was great, she was funny and kind and interested in what was going on. The Friday day nurse was very nice as well, and was able to answer my questions and put me at ease. I have learned that nurses, or in this case, midwives, can make a huge difference in your experience of illness. My mood and fear level for my entire hospital stay was directly linked to the midwife team on call. I didn't need a ton of attention, but if they were kind and calm, I felt like everything was going to be fine and that being in a hospital was just a precaution. If they were either hyper or distant or unresponsive, I felt very nervous, like something odd and out of a TV medical drama was about to happen to me or the baby, and this seemed to make both my pain and my emotional capacity far worse.
Anyways, I was sent to another ultrasound that afternoon to look for gallstones. How is that for ironic? Here I was whining that I wish I had more ultrasounds and I got two in a row. Of course, this one was more serious, nobody was getting trained, and it was interesting to see how a fully trained professional handles an ultrasound- she was a lot more confident and told me more about what was going on. I really enjoyed it, and got to see the baby again! They found that sure enough, I did have gallstones, and that also I had an inflamed gall bladder which meant I had a gall bladder infection. The doctors had already suspected this and I shrugged it off. I didn't know that it would keep me in the hospital for several more days, or that it is considered a particularly nasty infection. I'm so glad I didn't understand this because I would have been a lot more scared than I was. The infection is called Acute Cholecystitis and while I may have had gall stones for a long time, this attack was most likely brought on by my pregnancy and not something else about me. I was just happy because my pain was finally responding to the pain killers and while I didn't like how high the morphine made me, I can't believe how necessary it was!
Anyways, at about 6ish I was visited by the first of many surgeons. He asked me about my medical history and what medications I'm on. It was interesting for me to see how I again underplay certain elements of my health. I told him I have no health problems, and then told him about the two inhalers I use for my asthma. He was like, ok, start over, you have asthma, are there any other health things going on with you? It's not like I'm not a drama queen, but I always underplay the things that are actually going on, like a family history of mental illness- which I never know when to bring up and skipped on this trip, or my lung/asthma issues, which seem so small compared to the asthma issues many people go through. Asthma probably is never going to kill me, and I forget that it's an issue at all. Anyways, I can't totally remember the details of the meeting, but he basically said what was said for the rest of my hospital experience- that they don't like operating on pregnant women because of the potential dangers of anaesthesia to the fetus, but that that risk is overridden if the operation becomes life saving. Okey dokey. Oh, and that they would watch the infection and hopefully take out my gall bladder after I deliver the baby.
The third day, Saturday, the nurses really couldn't be bothered with me. I couldn't decide if this was a good sign, that I wasn't an acute case, or if they really were being negligent. Even when I was throwing up my latest meal, which happened daily for a little while, they just came in, removed the throw up bucket, and went back to laughing and talking to each other. It was kind of strange. And I had to beg for pain killers, which was pretty humiliating. I was frustrated because the codeine seemed to be making me throw up, and didn't seem to be working anyways, but they were holding out on the morphine because it is a more controlled drug and they needed two nurses to get it. I understand that, but the tactic of just stalling did not help me make informed choices, it just made me kind of paranoid. Later in the day an entire surgical team visited me. Suddenly the nurses were very attentive, and I became a priority, slightly suspicious if you ask me. Of course, I was punished for this because as soon as the surgeons heard I was having trouble keeping food and medication down I had an AWFUL permanent needle put in my wrist for fluids. I had just talked them into taking the other one out, so I was pretty grossed out. It hurt and was gross, but that's it. I just got the heebie jeebies from it. So, this team decided to move me to another hospital, where the gall bladder surgery unit is actually housed, and I was moved a few hours later by a very bouncy ambulance ride, and a very friendly ambulance driver. I was in enough pain that I couldn't really talk, but she was so cute and they played hip hop music and it all seemed so inappropriate, yet so comforting, that I really liked the trip.
I was put in the maternity ward of the second hospital and met by a vastly superior set of midwives. Throughout the rest of my stay, this team totally outperformed the other team in all ways. They were fun, and interesting, and liked to talk about stuff and I learned about their lives and what it's like to be a midwife and they were great. In fact, I would switch to this hospital to deliver my baby if they had a water birth option, but they don't, so I'm still in limbo land about where and how to give birth.
The days here kind of run into each other. For almost the entire stay there was talk of me being moved up to the surgical ward because I was actually a surgical patient. But even when they settled in on deciding what to do, there were still no beds in surgery, and I didn't want to leave anyways. I called it the princess ward. It was so nice, there were only pregnant people, not sick people, and I could talk on my phone or play on my computer or walk around (not that I could get very far) or do whatever I wanted. I had my own room and while the tv was placed in an impossible to view spot, the room had a sink and a drawer and a quintessential English landscape view, and it was great. I was able to inform my relatives about where I was, and was surprised by the instant response I got from them- they have a tendency to be very distant. Even the nun aunt who boycotted my wedding because it wasn't in a church, was responsive, which was very nice because while she will never be a mother figure, she is my mom's sister and I really appreciated her support. In fact, the only one who wasn't very responsive was my best friend. More on that another time.
The other nice thing that started to happen was I started to be able to hold down my food (a few days later) and I started to respond to the codeine, so I could quit the humiliating morphine. I was started on a nasty dose of antibiotics, that made me pretty sick, but it definitely felt worth it, I can handle pain if I know everything is okay. It's when pain and fear intertwine that things get hard for me.
So, that's basically it. Once I was able to keep down food for a few days I was allowed to start taking the antibiotics by mouth. I was pretty immobilized for many of the days, and a short walk was pretty painful and took a lot out of me, but I improved daily, and the last day I was able to pick out some food in the cafeteria and eat it with my husband. I also, after a few days, started to realize that the ward was not as comfortable as I originally thought, with women screaming and vomiting in pain, but this indicated to me that I was doing better because I hadn't even noticed that stuff before. The best moment, even better than my discharge, was getting that damn wired contraption out of my hand. It was so gross and I still have a cut on my hand to show for it, although the bruise is mostly gone. I'll post a picture if I can find one. It really creeped me out.
MY AWESOME HUSBAND
So, I am now convinced that one of the reasons why I was able to go home when I did was because of my amazing husband. He slept in a horrible chair the first two nights I was in the hospital (!) and then for the next days he came early in the morning and stayed with me until late at night. He was amazing at helping me understand what was going on, and at helping me emotionally stay strong. I always knew he was amazing, but he set a new standard in amazingness, I'm not sure I would do as well as he did, I just appreciate it so much. After I was discharged I thought things were going to be better/easier, but they actually got a bit worse for a little while. I had the harsh realization of how sick I was when I absolutely couldn't understand my medical routine and my husband had to be my full time drug dealer. I was taking 7 pills several times a day and I wouldn't have been able to do it without him. Well, I don't think that they would have let me go if it wasn't for him. I truly didn't understand how sick I was. With the realization of how sick I was, I became very upset and scared. The one year anniversary of my very close friend's sudden death fell on the Saturday I was in the hospital, and once the realization of how sick I was hit me, the fear and weight of my own mortality smashed into me like a ton of bricks. I was really spooked, and also really sad all over again about my friend. She died of a nasty infection that went septic. That could have happened to me. It happened in less than a week for her and I miss her so much. Why did she have to die while I got to improve and go home? There is no answer, but my husband was amazing at helping me deal with all of this through a pain filled codeine induced haze. I have never said anything like this, and will probably never say anything like it again, but he is my angel and I credit him with so much- is it cheesy that I believe he saved my life?
THE INCREDIBLE SELF OBSESSION OF ILLNESS
So, I'll probably have more to say once this is all over and I'm not in pain or tired anymore, but I have to say that my illness made me crazy self absorbed. Facebook was great cuz I could publish updates and get responses from friends and feel a lot of support. Without that I think I would have called my sister nightly just to get attention. And I was not short on attention, I just wanted more. I couldn't ask how other people were doing, I could only update them on myself. I couldn't even think about anybody outside of myself, except maybe the baby... maybe. It was a little crazy. Kind of like having a birthday for a whole week, and judging people's response to it and equating it to how much they cared about me. The reality is that everybody (except for one person) came through, and while I would have been crucified if I didn't send something to my mother in law when she was hospitalized, yet nothing was sent to me, I got way better. I really saw my family in action and it was nice. Of course, my dad went to Asia for a month the day before I was discharged, and I'm a little upset by how he seems to have disappeared into another continent and forgotten about me (indicates the self obsession isn't over because he has emailed twice and called on skype numerous times, but I haven't been on at the time), but that is as much my fault as his- I spent a lot of time telling people I was just fine, when it turned out I wasn't as great as I thought I was. I hope this self obsession has calmed down a bit, and I now can understand a bit more about what I would do if somebody I loved was in the hospital, so this has been an amazing learning experience for me.
AFTERMATH
I have to be on a low fat diet. That's it. Not too bad, not that big of a deal. In the past month I had been eating more cheese and big ole cadbury chocolate bars, so that stuff had to go, but for the most part, I already ate a low fat diet and this has not been that much of a challenge. Of course, I was a bit confused about what a low fat diet actually is, but my husband set up an appointment with a colleague of his that is a dietician, and she said we were doing fine. I think my sister mourned my low fat diet more than I have, she was really upset about my not getting to eat junk food for the rest of my pregnancy because that is what she loved most, but I'm kind of relieved because I was slipping down a junk food slope, and I already struggle with my weight a lot, so being forced to cut back is a good thing. Trust me, there is no motivation like crazy, shrieking, writhing, scaring everybody around you, pain.
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