Massaaaaahhhge

I admit I'm a little behind with my updates. We're moving soon and I have spent a lot of my feel-good time packing boxes and then either moving them or pushing them around the house. Last week I was so sore from doing this that I decided it was time for a massage. There's a place near my apartment that I like to go to and I made myself an appointment for Thursday evening.

It was a strategic time: not too early that I couldn't take my medication (the last thing a masseuse wants is a nauseous client) and late enough that if I wanted, I could just come straight home and get into bed without worrying that I'd be up and wide awake at 4am.

I was a little nauseous when I got there but I've been a little nauseous a lot lately, so I wasn't too concerned that I would have any problems. Luckily, I was right near the bathroom if I had to call a halt to the magic massaging. That's one thing I've learned over the past two months: like Jason Bourne knows the exits, I know where the bathrooms are in any given place I visit.

Overall, the massage was uneventful. As a pregatron, they make you sign extra paperwork that says you won't sue them for any irrational reason (as if pregnant ladies are irrational!) and then they have little foamy blocks that keep you resting on your side instead of the belly. Not that my masseuse lady could tell I was even pregnant. No matter. I did just fine on my side and the desired effect was there: cat nap, muscles relaxed, no vomiting! yay.

I left feeling like I'd just had a good workout (which I had, without having to lift a finger!) and went to bed shortly after getting home. On Friday, I awoke a new woman! I wanted to believe that the nausea was all gone because of Gwen and my massage experience, but I know that is unlikely (especially because it's not really gone, it just officially began to truly taper over the weekend)... but I do think that the massage helped.

So, yes. I am feeling a little better. I am eating! In fact, I am munching on Oaty Bites as I write this. It's still a little tough to find something I feel like eating, but I really hope that by Easter I'll be digging into some peanut butter eggs and nibbling a Peep or two. One day at a time... each day closer to normal!

One step forward... two steps back.

Ok. Enough. I know I said about a month ago that I was ready to be done with this constant nausea-sickness stuff but now I'm really ready. I don't mind the idea of being the size of a beached Cambrian pinniped. I just want to keep everything that I put in my mouth inside my body!

Being a constantly nauseous normal-sized human isn't cutting it. I am willing to skip straight to the later stages of this adventure if I can get one of those Chance cards that let you get out of jail free.

While I'd like to think the end is on the horizon, this stage isn't exactly one that I can figure out. One day I feel pretty good and I can walk around and sit at a table and watch other people eat (and sometimes nibble something myself) and the next I find myself looking around the car for plastic baggies in case of an emergency. Yes, I'm venturing out more. No, it doesn't mean I'm that much better. I think it means I don't care anymore. I need to get out.

Today I went to recycle some bottles and cans because here in California we pay a deposit for those-- and at 5 cents a pop, it can really add up! I wanted my money back. After all, I'm not exactly able to work these days so a day's income could be a whopping $5 or $10 depending on my bottle and can stash.

I stood in line with my bag for a while and then 5 minutes later I was still in line. Ten minutes passed. I was still in line. I had moved a little, but not much. I started to feel super nauseous. I looked around -- there were trash cans, right there in the open. Available for old trash bags or cans and bottles that didn't make the CRV cut. I figured I had an option if I needed it-- in front of all the other can and bottle redemption people. But then I thought, I'd rather be sick at home. And however long I have to wait while feeling that way was probably not enough to justify a few dollars. While I'd have a good story, I'd still feel lousy at the end of it and I'd still have to drive myself home and I would still have the same yucky (yet now oh so familiar) taste I'd try to brush away without triggering the gag reflex again. I turned to the man behind me and told him he could have my bottles and cans. Then I got in the car and went home.

Bananas!

And strawberries!

After weeks of struggle... I might be turning a corner. Yesterday I ate strawberries with no ill-effects. And today, I had a banana! I'm still a bit undecided when it comes to what I want, but I'm not totally grossed out by the thought of eating... just a little grossed out. Yay!

I have managed to eat two meals today, and it's not too late to rule out the possibility of something that will resemble dinner.

I'm not going to push it, but I hope that next week I'll be nibbling non-stop!

Hello, Second Trimester

It's official. I'm into week 14 -- regardless of calculations. Remember one of the 2000 Presidential debates when Al Gore and George W. Bush accused one another of fuzzy math? Well, I think the doctors I've been seeing could also be fuzzy mathematicians.

Technically, the websites I've plugged my data into say we're looking at September 16. But according to nugget measurements, two doctors predict September 11, so that's the date that's plastered on my paperwork. Yep, 9/11. Memorable? Yes. Bad mojo? Perhaps. But considering something like 4 to 7% of babies were born on their predicted date (I'm talkin' to you, Leigh!) I'm guessing we're looking at later than the 11th.

Just for kicks, and since living in the future is still easier than the present lately, I've checked out some other dates around that time that the nugget could share with notable names. There are also plenty of family friends who think it'll be their birthday-- Share September 10 with Maya? Or the due date with Dan and Harry Connick Jr...? Hmm.

I'm mentally on the bandwagon of the 18th with Lance Armstrong and also because it's Adam and Katie's anniversary, but then again... I know I'm not gonna want to wait that long (that's true summer here in SoCal--hot, hot, hot!). Place your bets, folks. At least getting a pool going will keep us in the spirit of March Madness.

If you're curious, here are some other dates, with their corresponding well-known names:

September 12: Barry White, George Jones, Jennifer Hudson (definitely a musician)

September 13: Mr. Hershey of Hershey Chocolates, Mel Torme, Fiona Apple (A sweet, jazzy velvet fog child)

September 14: Sam Neill, Amy Winehouse (A scientist kid who invents Jurassic Park? No, no, no)

September 15: President Taft, Tommy Lee Jones, Oliver Stone (a Texas-twangy conspirator kid who loves to take baths!)

September 16: Ed Begle, Jr., David Copperfield (Composting kid... who disappears when it's time to do the dishes)

September 17: Anne Bancroft (Hello, Mrs. Robinson!)

September 18: Lance, Jada Pinkett Smith, Frankie Avalon (swoon!)

September 19: Twiggy, Joan Lunden, Trisha Yearwood, Jim Abbott (a baseball-playing singing supermodel?)

If we get any later, I'm not sure what I will do with myself. Let's not think about that.

Round 2

It's been a while since I've posted anything-- mostly because I'm having mixed feelings about repeating the same news for the 50th, 51st, 52nd... day in a row.

The latest development is that I'm now taking twice as much of the Zofran as I was a week ago. This increase came after a day of endless sickness and general misery, which was Tuesday. When you've vomited between 8 and 10 times in a day and you start to get faint and dizzy, it's time to do something. Time to call in the big guns: IV Fluids.

Since the closest hospital to my house, Cedars-Sinai, doesn't accept my insurance and my last visit cost $700+ (anybody out there keeping a baby cost sheet?), I went over to UCLA, which is about 5 miles from my house. I decided a cab would take too long and I didn't have enough cash to get there, so I drove myself. How sweet that they offer valet parking at the ER! Only in LA!

They saw me after about an hour of waiting. I hadn't tried eating anything before I got there so I wouldn't have to worry about the they-called-your-name-but-you-were-in-the-bathroom problem. I was put in a room with a mural of smiling children holding hands superimposed in front of a satellite image of earth. I sorta wanted a Sharpie so I could give them all devil horns.

Clint joined me and sat in an extra chair in the small room. I told him it would be boring, but he came anyway. Bless. After one whole bag of fluids, I got another. It was rather uneventful, but I really did feel better. Bonus: we got to see the nugget again, and it looked like it was still hanging out in a hammock. It moved around a bit, but I couldn't see it very well on the sorta crummy screen. Apparently, it was fine. However, I was not: I had protein in my pee. Geez! I can't get a break!

These proteins are called ketones, and they're sometimes a sign of being on the Atkins diet. In my case, it was a sign of starvation. These ketones are potentially dangerous to the fetus, so the nurses and doctors encourage you to drink more and eat carbohydrates so that they go away. I'll find out tomorrow if they're gone. It was a little scary to think that all of this sickness has finally caught up with me and is potentially causing harm to the nugget. The nurse taking care of me, whose name was Shannon (and she looked like Molly Shannon!) said I looked "stoned" but Clint assured her that I was just tired. After all, I hadn't left the ER for three hours. My blood pressure was super low, but I was sent on my way anyway, armed with a new Rx for Zofran that dissolves so that I don't have the challenge of swallowing it with liquid. That night, I went home and hunkered down.

I've done my best since then to drink more-- but even with twice as much Zofran, I've still been getting sick so I know that I'm not close to relief. I have activities on my calendar this week (It's week 14! I was/am? an optimist!) and I think I'll be canceling them tomorrow. Oh well, time to start another week. Second trimester, her we come.

Extra Arms (or Legs)

I got this sweet octopus card in the mail today. It's from a thoughtful sister with impeccable taste in stationary. I always get nice cards from Canada. They still use the real post there!

The card got me thinking: It'd be nice to have 8 arms/legs right now so that I would have a few extra to hold my hair back when I'm sick. Instead, I have to hastily put it up as I scoot to the bathroom. Over the past 46 days, I've seriously considered cutting it at least three times. I've been growing it for more than a year so that I can donate it to Locks of Love or a similar program, and it's long enough to donate now. But I'm not sure it's the right time. Each time I think about it, I eventually have to ask myself, Is now really the right time to get my hair cut like Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby?

I would like to have short hair again, but I'm not so sure now's the right time to be scissor happy. I've had short hair before. I like it. It suits me fine. It's easier to maintain and it certainly doesn't get caught in zippers or require much grooming. I considered it again this weekend as I was watching The Sound of Music-- Julie Andrews looks great! Maria's hair is probably more like the length I'd go for, but it's still SHORT. I decided that I have to think about what I'll look like 6 months from now and consider that in addition to the weight I hope to gain back (I'm still down 8 -- today it was 9-- pounds from the start of this adventure), I should gain more as well, which will likely not be judicious in weight disbursement. Meaning, I might be waiting for my double chin to come in. I'll need some hair to cover that up, right? Maybe make me a little slimmer? I will need to hide behind something and have a distraction that's bigger than the belly I'll be sporting soon.

I'm not planning on going Cousin Itt on anyone, but I think I should keep the long hair at least 'til it's too long to stand any longer and then I can get it cut to a medium length and skip the inevitable comparisons to leading ladies with short hair. In the meantime, I will continue to hastily bundle up my hair as I scurry to the bathroom on my inevitable trips.

Thanks for the octopus, Lig!

Please send me an avatar

Day 41 of constant nausea. Time for something drastic. I'd like to request an avatar. I keep getting asked if I need anything. Other than a lobotomy, I would settle for being a giant blue alien for the remaining weeks of this sickness, or even the rest of the pregnancy. That'd be fine. Really, I would rather be twelve feet tall and able to ride an ikran that be who/what I currently am, which is a nausea and gestation vessel. I don't think being a Na'vi would be all that bad right now. And unless that crazy Colonel Quaritch is around to cause problems, Pandora would be a nice place to spend the next six and a half months, no?

Tuesday! Not Monday anymore!

Today is week 12, day 3. I weigh a respectable 153, which is still less than I was when I started this adventure, but I'll take 153 over 148, which is where I was just a week and a half ago. All of my trousers are still fitting, and some are even loose. I look totally normal, and I'm not one to prance around in tight little tank tops, so don't come here cruisin' for week-by-week photos. There won't be any.

I spent most of my morning in Sleepytown, where I had some strange dreams and finally rose around 10, thinking, "It's past lunchtime in Washington..." Checking the time on the east coast is something I do regularly, sorta to check on my productivity. This thought was personal code for, "You're being lazy!"

However late it was, I think that the long rest actually helped me have a decent day. I managed to go to meet someone I never met before and not vomit on them. In fact, I didn't feel lousy until after the meeting. And because I had packed my snacks ahead of time and even made time to get a ginger stash before I went to the meeting, I felt pretty decent through the entire 8 mile ride home. I even drank orange juice! I felt like oj, so I bought some when I picked up my Rx. This is the first time I've given in to the oj desire, though I've had it for a few days and was wary of the acidity. Last time I tried eating a grapefruit, things didn't go very well.

I decided pulp free would be a good compromise, and I was overjoyed when I drank nearly a half a gallon of the stuff this afternoon. Yay! Is the end near? I'm not pushing my luck. Check back in a few days. I'll keep you posted.

March Madness

It's March! Week twelve is underway, meaning I'm another day closer to the second trimester. But after the past three hours, I'm reminded that means absolutely nothing.

I had a record day yesterday -- no vomiting! Nausea, yes. But I saw not vomiting as a good sign-- possibly the beginning of a turnaround. Unfortunately, I was sorely mistaken. That optimism swiftly disappeared this morning at 5:30. And again at 6:15, 7 and 7:45. All of the fluid replenishment I managed to do yesterday is probably gone by now, so I've begun another slow climb back toward hydration.

I'm ticking off the things that aren't working today: Ginger Ale, Jell-o and Gatorade so far. I'm just trying old fashioned water right now and hoping for the best.