Shake Your Booty

I've been in Atlanta for the last 4 days vomiting no less than 4 times a day each day. Surrounded by an enthusiastic food pusher who talked baby talk to me "are you feewing betteeeww sweety-pie?". Errr, no and fuck off. (father in law for those of you who are wondering)

I had 2 meltdowns on the trip - the "OH MY GOD I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE" kind of meltdown with sobbing and vomiting and the whole loveliness of hormone infused freak out.

I told myself that I had to stick it out until today - just make it to the 20th at 2:10 and you don't have to think a minute past 2:10.

Today was our first Dr.'s appointment - because the clinic I selected (with the roomy and luxurious birthing suites) doesn't see people until 10 - 12 weeks of their pregnancy. I don't know why I needed someone in a white lab coat to tell me that Yes, I am pregnant, and oooooh you poor baby - but I did damnit.

We had little to no wait at all - were escorted in by the sweet little old lady nurse who remembered me from past annual check-ups. First thing she said was "OOOOH you changed your name! Congratulations!" How much sweeter could you get!

Then she went over the basic pamphlets of information - all the while I'm thinking "when are they going to test me?" Like - they're just taking my word for it that I'm pregnant and have been vomiting un-controllably. I could totally not be pregnant and wasting everyones time. So she told me to undress and wear the little butt flappy gown - which Mr. M secured on the tightest of loops so as not to have much in the way of cold breezes.

I sat on the torture platform with my black socked feet swinging. Then I got dizzy - very dizzy - like about to pass out or vomit dizzy. I laid down and for the first time in my life, but my feet in the stirrups to get MORE comfortable.

The Dr. knocked and took one look at me and said, "Stay right where you are, you're white as a sheet and take your feet out of the stirrups - I'll extend the table." Ahhhh - how nice.

So she talks to us for a while, first thing discussed is the vomiting. She's not having it - and neither am I quite frankly. She orders me a scrip immediately for anti-nausea meds. She also says that I'm only gonna feel this for a few more weeks tops anyways - but why suffer any longer. Can you say LOVE THE DR!

She does a brief pelvic exam - apparently my uterus is tipped back. After telling my mother this after the appointment she says, "Oh yea, mine is too, huh.." Interesting that our bodies are externally so different but so internally alike. She also mentions that I have a full bladder, which yes, thanks for noticing I have to pee so bad I may go right here. (I was saving it for the cup - the cup that didn't happen for another 45 minutes).

She looks for a heartbeat with the doppler, giving me all the usual schpiel about don't freak out if you can't hear it right away, it'll take a while. I stopped her mid-phrase. No worries - I won't freak out and I was serious, I'm not scared about that. I don't know why - but I'm just not.

So she searched and searched... to no avail. Read above: tilted uterus. She asks if I want to do a quick ultra-sound just to see it. Sure I do - why the heck not.

She wheels in the big screen with the giant vagina wand. "watch the screen" she instructs.

We watch.

Only seconds later I forget there is a giant plastic penis up in my stuff coming dangerously close to my very full bladder. There it is (she - I think). She looks like a little teddy bear, we've got a picture dead on from the front, she's facing us.

And guess what!

She does a little dance!

Not a little dance - A BIG DANCE. With the arms going and the legs moving. She's dancing like nobody's business. Dance MACHINE I tell you. Mr-M has lost it at this point. We're laughing and giggling and he's tearing up a bit. It was quite awesome.

Everything is perfect - I popped my first anti nausea tonight - hopefully that will help a bit.

I'll be scanning the pics tomorrow - but really its just a blob that only a mother could love... hehehe... me, a mother.

Bologna Dreams

For some reason the feeling struck me that a bologna sandwich would be palatable today. As we all know - when a sick pregnant lady gets some food idea in her head - good luck getting it out, even if she only takes one bite and tosses it aside.

So I go to subway (a place I NEVER go to usually) and order a 6 inch on wheat bologna sandwich.

Guy behind Counter: we don't have bologna.

Insane Pregnant Woman: yes you do - can't you take a cold cut trio and take the bologna out and throw away the rest? I'll pay for the cold cut trio.

Guy behind Counter: Why would you want to do that???!!!! ok - if thats what you REALLY want.

Insane Pregnant Woman: Yes that IS what I REALLY want [fake smiles]

Guy Behind Counter: "You do know that these are all turkey based - it's all the same thing really - I don't know WHY you would want to do this....

Insane Pregnant Woman: [interrupts and leans over plastic counter thing as far as she can while hissing through teeth] Listen, I'm pregnant, I want bologna, ONLY BOLOGNA, NOTHING ELSE, THANK YOU!

Other People in Line: [roll eyes, hold back giggles, and generally look at pregnant lady like she's lost her marbles]

You'll be happy to know I just took a bite - and was totally over the bologna

Words Cannot Describe

Mr. M made me call the Dr., and so did Emy - but whatever. The reason I was avoiding this call is because how dumb would I sound when I said to the OB Nurse "I'm pregnant and I feel just awful."

The response would probably be dead air or a hang up at best.

I thought this is just the deal - I've been reading some of my favorite bloggers archives around the time they were in the first trimesters with their babies trying to find common ground. Everyone describes nausea but nobody really says that they are heaving over the toilet 2 - 4 times a day. I don't get it - am I the only one who actually vomits?? Everyone I've talked to says - they FELT nauseous but never actually threw anything up.

To which I say - THANK YOU - and aren't you the LUCKIEST butthole* ever in the world.

Where was I - duurrrrrr, oh yea the nurse.

So the nurse gave me lots of "you poor thing's" and "aaaahhh I'm sorry"s. So that was nice. However, all she could do for me was ask me to describe my symptoms which are:

• Throwing up - anywhere from 1 - 5 times a day, morning, noon, night etc
• Swollen belly
• No poop
• Exhaustion - after 10 hours of sleep one would think you've slept enough - one would be wrong!
• Loss of appetite
• Stinky pee
• Pulling sensations in my abdomen when I sneeze,cough, laugh, or vomit
• Extremely strong gag reflex - try throwing up WHILE brushing your teeth.

Then she rattled off a laundry list of tips for me to do. First and foremost she said STOP taking the vitamins. Those horse pills are what are causing me to not be able to poop and could be adding to my sickness. She told me to get some plain old folic acid supplements and B6 supplements. Only to take them from now on till I see the Dr. Which if you're playing along at home isn't for another 2 weeks!

She mentioned all the standard stuff - crackers, dry foods, lots of small meals, drink lots of water, etc etc. To which I basically guffawed - like I haven't TRIED all that. Then she suggested some things I haven't tried: peppermint tea, mints, hard candies, and gum.

One scary element to the call was the "if you're not feeling better in three days you'll need to come in to get some IV fluids - because you're most likely dehydrated".

IV=Needles
Suzanne+Needles=Hyperventilation

Yes - I realize that is probably not good to be a pregnant lady who fears needles and pain to the point of self induced panic. I'm working on it - as I'm also working on not being so dramatic about this. I'm trying to be as un-dramatic as possible about being sick. I'm trying to take it in stride - so what - I threw up - no big deal, back to work. But, it's hard for me... WHIIIIINNNNEEE CRRYYYYY BITTTTCH. I'm such a baby - I wanna slap myself and say "BUCK UP CHICKY!" But I can't muster the strength to even kick my own ass.

My house is in shambles. The laundry hasn't been done since before the wedding, the presents are all over the living room, Mr. M is not eating well AT ALL because I can't bare to cook with all those awful smells, and it's a pig sty. At the end of each day I say "today you will complete one task when you get home" then I puke on the ride home and fall onto the couch like a ton of bricks and usually fall asleep till Mr. M comes home an hour later.

Why doesn't anyone have the magic answer - the magic pill - something MAGIC DAMNIT!

*butthole is a highly under-used word and Mr.M and I have decided to make a serious effort to bring it back

Too Exhausted For Thinking

The buzz of the bathroom fan whirred overhead and the florescent lights stung my eyes. Staring ahead at the sterile white tile walls, closing my eyes ever so often - not knowing how long they were closed - or if I'm dreaming this whole thing.

I sit and I sit - I wait.

I wait for my stomach to push out the b.m. that I know is in me - but it just won't come out. I wait to throw up again in the plastic bag I snagged from the nearest waste basket.

I wait for this foggy nightmare to be over - but when I open my eyes - the cool tile wall is still pressing against my temple and the whir of the fan is still vibrating in my ears.

I give up and wash my hands - I look up to the girl in the mirror and she is un-recognizable. Face glistening from sweat, pale as a ghost, dark circles have encompassed her eyes, the beautiful crystal blue of her eyes has been replaced by a glossy grayness. I rinse my mouth out - and pray that this is the last of it for the day.

I pray for sleep - because sleep is the only solace I have. In the early morning when my body wakes up and my brain starts ticking - I squeeze my eyes shut praying that I may not wake up.

Awake = sick.

I'm sorry for those that yearn for this - that make deals with God to just give them a child. I feel like a selfish and spoiled brat for even wishing for a second for this to all go away. I realize that others have had it worse - much worse. I know these things - but it doesn't make the girl in the mirror anymore normal - or anymore me.

Wedding Re-Cap

I've been thinking for days about how I could put into words the events of last weekend. I've come up with nothing and everything. The day is flipping through my memory like a filmstrip stopping on different moments each time.

For those of you who told me to be careful what I wish for on the morning sickness front – you were of course right as hell. God watched over me through Saturday evening and most of the day Sunday. My head was in my mother's toilet by Sunday evening which brought on huge raised eyebrows from her. I didn't lie – but I didn't fess up. I just shrugged and kept on puking.

Mr. M had this fantastic trip to Chicago planned – with a stay in an amazingly beautiful hotel. He asked me if I still wanted to go – I said I'd give it a go. Nobody told me that car sickness would be my worst enemy. I found that sleeping or at least keeping my eyes closed was the best remedy. My back hurt something fierce so I wrapped myself in Mr. M's body pillow that he doesn't leave home without and it worked for lumbar support.

The wedding day as a whole was nothing I can explain completely. I woke up and didn't really FEEL like I was getting married today. I even got my hair done and didn't feel much – the veil went on the makeup looked lovely – still nothing. I got to the church and was telling my girlfriends – that I think something is wrong with me because I don't feel anything. They just smirked and said, "not yet". I put the dress on – and nothing… once again my girls said "not yet". I took pictures – and nothing, not even a nervous squiggle in my tummy. I took the dress off again and wore my friend's black trench coat with nothing under it – which made for some pretty funny pictures pre-wedding.

I put the dress back on – I was to walk up the stairs in 10 minutes- and I still didn't feel like I was getting married. I walked up the stairs and my parents, his parents, and the bridal party was there (minus the boys of course). Then – I lost it. I started to have an anxiety attack. I immediately whirled around and had Emy and Jess stand in front of me making a little circle. They just had me breath slowly, got me to stop crying. Relaxed me until I was ready to face everyone again. When I did – I was fine.

The processional music started. The flower girl apparently did an amazingly good job with the flowers and was very precise about her flower placement because people were laughing. Then my girls went, then my cousin and brother, then my sister. Then the doors closed and I got in place.

I waited for my processional music to start – the doors flung open Dad held strong – not wavering. Mr. M lost it – seriously and completely lost it – blubbering, sobbing, gasping, and smiling all at once. All I could do was smile and cry myself. I floated through the ceremony until the vows. The vows – my God – the vows. It was the most un-believable moment of my life. I have never seen into someone's soul until that moment. There was no one else in the room for all we knew. I was told later by so many that they were the most amazing vows they had ever heard. Really – they were pretty basic I think – but it was the moment and the sincerity that got me.

We took more pictures and then were off to the reception. I've told people that I had an exceedingly traditional Lutheran ceremony and an exceedingly Jewish reception. We did the Horah, we went up in chairs (the whole while Mr. M is giving orders to this groomsmen through clenched teeth – DO NOT drop my pregnant wife!), we cut the "cake" (more like ripped a ding dong apart), I tossed the bouquet (it was an all out grudge match!), and we danced and danced. Words cannot describe the love and happiness in that room that night. Every picture has people grinning from ear to ear.

I crashed hard afterwards – took a nearly 3 hour nap on Sunday then took two naps on Monday. I kept apologizing to Mr. M for being such a party pooper – he was such a darling, never once complaining or being let down. Every morning since we've been back he's made me a toasted English muffin with peanut butter on it (it seems to be the only breakfast item that sounds remotely appetizing and staves off the vomiting).

I am trying to make it through work days and have become exceedingly reserved and withdrawn. I'm concentrating on how to schedule my eating so not to be sick at work and also not fall asleep at my desk.

I'm at 8 weeks pregnant and almost 1 week married – could there be a luckier girl in the world?