For the past 3 years, I have been planning this pregnancy and birth. I have been studying and learning everything I can to achieve a natural, peaceful, blissful, comfortable 9 months of growth and preparation before achieving a natural, peaceful, blissful, and comfortable birth. I had no intentions of suffering through this pregnancy. I 10,000% believed I had learned how to remedy every pregnancy discomfort with an array of natural options to keep myself and my baby healthy. I had no doubt in my mind I would sail through a beautiful pregnancy without the aid of medication. I knew better this time, so I would do better. (Is anyone else going to be surprised to see my riderless high horse in the next paragraph?)
This week shocked me into reality. It hurt. It completely took me by surprise. It absolutely humbled me. I realized immediately how arrogant I sounded. I knew if I was listening to myself ramble about how I just hadn't planned to be sick this time, I would think I was crazy. But I wasn't. I had just convinced myself that I had more control than I actually did. I teach and believe in positive thinking. I believe you should prepare yourself and think positively about your body and your birth. I still believe that. Unfortunately, in this case, I had almost completely removed myself from my reality. I was sick. Nothing I was trying was working, and I wasn't getting any better. I faced more judgement than empathy when talking to other moms in both the natural and mainstream camps. I realized how frustrating it can be to have unsolicited advice pour in with the complete absence of empathy. I recognized that I have been guilty of the same thing multiple times, and that even with the best of intentions, it's still 100% obnoxious. If this has taught me nothing else, it is that each situation is unique, and every mother needs support and empathy more than she will ever need your expertise, advice, or judgement. I am hopeful it will make me a better friend and teacher, and a more compassionate human overall.
For the last month, my toddler has been left with a lump of a mother who, on some days, couldn't walk without vomiting. My husband spent the last 4-5 weeks playing the role of provider, housekeeper, and pulling more than his regular share of parenting shifts. I wasn't functioning. I had lost 7 lbs. I was crying. I was constantly thirsty, and my stomach muscles were sore. I was miserable. I wasn't suffering from "Morning Sickness". I wasn't just nauseated. I was barely making it most days. I was determined to get better on my own, and it was costing my entire family.
I'm not going to say I was acting crazy or that my concerns didn't have merit. There is no medication for pregnancy that is without risk, and I wanted all of my baby's organs to be developed (which happens around 10 weeks gestation) before I started taking anything. We made it to 10 weeks on Monday.
On Tuesday, we went to urgent care. I hadn't kept down liquids for a couple of days. I had a fever. I felt awful. I cried the whole way there in disbelief. The urgent care doctor checked me over and sent me to the emergency room. Immediately, I started to worry that I waited too long. That I had put my baby at risk in an effort to not put my baby at risk. I cried the whole way to the hospital. When we got there, they gave me medicine to take orally. When I continued to dry heave, they told me they were going to start fluids and more medicine through an IV. The doctor handed me a hospital gown to put on. Lyla shrieked and told him she LOVES ball gowns! He explained that it wasn't quite a ball gown, but when I put it on, she told me I looked beautiful, and that my gown looked like Cinderella's wedding dress. (It didn't. It was white...but the similarities ended there.)
Before they started the IV, a resident came in with a bedside ultrasound machine. He told me he wanted to do a quick check of the baby. He found a small sack and a little blob. He asked us again how far along we were. I said just over 10 weeks. He told me my baby could only be about 5/6 weeks old. It had a heartbeat, but the timing didn't add up. I must have my dates wrong. But I knew I didn't. He turned it off, told me the machines are low quality and not to worry too much, but to follow up with my midwife. I finished my IV and felt physically better, except that, now, I was completely terrified.
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