I'm sorry Doctor, what did you say?!

I have thought about this post for a long time. Wondering what to say and how to express myself without sounding awful. I don't know how to do it, so here goes nothing. Folks that read this that are under the age of 12, Cass, I'm talking to you, be warned. Even folks over the age of 12 be warned. I have been told that I say what comes to mind and that's not always a good thing. If you don't want to read on about a certain medical condition we are currently going through, then stop reading. It all started back in April. I just didn't feel that great. I wasn't sick sick, I just didn't feel super. I remember one morning when I went running and I truly felt like my legs weighed a thousand pounds. I made it about half a block before my inner battle of stopping or keep running started up. I only ran three miles that day and really thought that my life was going to end before my run did. It was awful. I was also having pain in body parts that shall remain unnamed. I  talked to B about the pain and he said that usually that kind of pain means pregnancy. I told him I already knew that but I had Essure done six weeks after little B was born. For those of you that don't know what Essure is, it's a permanent form of birth control. There are metal coils at the end of my Fallopian tubes. Scar tissue has grown around the coils, turning said coils into a plug so that nothing can get by. We were told that Essure is as effective and having my tubes tied without having to have surgery. Essure makes it so there's a 0.01% chance of pregnancy and it could be done in the Dr's office. Enough textbook talk, back to the story. By the third week in May when I still felt crappy and was still having sore body parts, I knew it was time to take a pregnancy test. I love the dollar store for so many reasons. One of them is that you can get pregnancy test's for a buck! I bought it, came home and took it and burst into tears. I am sure that you can imagine the results. I called the Dr and through tears told the sweet little secretary that I had just taken a pregnancy test and it was positive, but I had Essure done three years ago. I told her I was sorry for crying, but I was freaking out. She told me that the Dr would want to see me and asked if I could be there in 20 minutes. I said yes, loaded up little B and the extra kid we were watching and went to the Dr. He told me that they needed to make sure it wasn't an ectopic pregnancy, that the baby was in my uterus and not my tube. He didn't think I was far enough along for an ultrasound so he had me go to the lab and have blood drawn to check some kind of level. He told me they would call me that afternoon to let me know if the numbers were high enough to mean that they could do an ultrasound. Of course this was happening on the day that my parents were flying in for K's baptism. B was at work when I took the test. I didn't want to tell him in a text so I was waiting to tell him in person. I had to fake feeling good when I got my parents from the airport. Smells are really bad for me when I'm pregnant. Everyone and everything stinks. My parents are no exception. Hugging them was really hard because of their smell. Don't misunderstand, they aren't hobo's or anything like that, I just can't stand smells. Even B smells awful when I'm pregnant. It's nothing personal, that's just the way it is. Anyway, I got my parents home to our house and we did lunch. The Dr's office called saying the numbers were high enough so I needed to be back at three to do an ultrasound. I still hadn't had a chance to talk to B yet, I was on the verge of tears, I didn't feel good and everyone around me smelled disgusting. I told my mom that I had had a Dr's appointment before I picked them up. She asked what kind of appointment. I lied and told her it was just a check up. I know, I know. Telling my mom a lie is awful, but I needed to talk to B before I talked to her and I still didn't know if it was even a viable pregnancy. Anyway, I told her that they had goofed on some labs, so I needed to go back in. I asked if I could leave kids with her and dad and go to the appointment. She said yes and off I went. While the lady was doing the ultrasound, the Dr walked in. He stared at the screen and said,"There's a baby in your uterus." The room was totally silent and he said,"How does this happen?" I said,"There is a moment of pure insanity, and you have sex." Both he and the ultrasound lady laughed. I wasn't laughing. He told me he knew that, but how did I get pregnant? I was in total shock and didn't have anything to say. They Finished with the ultrasound and I was walking out of the office. The Dr patted my shoulder and said,"I want to congratulate you on your amazing pregnancy powers." I just shook my head and left. Right then B texted and told me that he was done with work. I called him and told him that I was just leaving the Dr's office. He asked which Dr. I told him and he asked why I was there. When I told him he said,"Are you serious?!" I said yes and there was a long pause on his end of the phone. Shock is a good way to describe it. After a minute he asked how we were going to hide it from all the people that were coming that weekend for K's baptism. I told him I didn't know. He told me he knew that as soon as I saw my sister, T, that I wouldn't be able to hide it. He knew that I would start to cry when I saw her and that she would know what was going on. He was right of course. She walked into our house, saw me laying on the couch and said,"What's wrong? Are you pregnant?" I burst into tears and it was all over. I hate being pregnant. Truly. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. We were supposed to be done with three. Little B is old enough that we can go on vacation and we don't need to worry about his naps or packing ten tons of baby gear. We had summer all planned out with vacations once a month to see family and do our own things too. Now I knew that I was going to be spending the summer on the couch. I hate the feeling of knowing that our kids were going to be neglected because I can't take care of them when I'm pregnant. I can't take care of myself. I hate that B has to work all day and then come home and take care of me and the kiddos. I hate that I can't take care of my family. No cooking or cleaning or holding them when they get hurt or just need attention. No sleeping in the same bed with B because he smells too bad and I can't stand when he moves. Instead I am tied to the couch with either a feeding tube or a PICC line just trying to stay alive. I feel like it makes our kids grow up so fast because, if they want something to eat during the day, they have to get it themselves. I do try and help, but have no energy. I tried to brush my teeth one time after I had thrown up and I couldn't hold the toothbrush because I was too weak, the toothbrush was too heavy. When people tell me it's in my head I want to scream at them that they're insane. Why would I choose that?

I know it's not the best picture, but it's the only one we got of the day I got my PICC line. I was 7 weeks along and had lost enough weight that the Dr wanted to do something. The dietitian wanted to do a feeding tube but B told her that I throw them up, so she agreed to the PICC line. They kept me overnight to get everything set up with the pharmacy so B could get the supplies and be my home health nurse.

B would come home from work and draw up the stuff to add to the TPN and then hook up the PICC line. The PICC line took 14 hours to run. So, it started in the afternoon and then B would turn it off the next morning before he went to work. 

One day I had to do another ultrasound. I don't remember why the Dr wanted one. Anyway, the ultrasound lady freaked out when she saw me. She said that I needed fluids and that I needed to go to the hospital. I said I was fine and that I just needed to go home. She insisted that I needed fluids so she had my friend who had driven me to the appointment take me to the hospital to get fluids. I tried telling them I just wanted to go home. I was overruled and ended up at the hospital. My Dr was out of town, so another Dr approved the fluids and they hooked me up. While I was getting fluids a nurse came in and asked if I was ok. I told her I was as good as can be expected. She asked if I ever had thoughts about hurting myself. I told her no. She asked if I ever thought about hurting my kids. I told her no. She said ok and left the room. She came back a few minutes later to tell me that the social worker was going to come in and talk to me. I told her that would be swell. The social worker came in and told me that she heard that I had a suicide plan all written out and was wanting to carry out my plan. I was so shocked that for a minute I didn't know what to say. I have no idea where she heard that. I told her it wasn't true and she started drilling me on what I do all day. When I said that I shower, she asked why. I kind of looked at her weird and told her, "because I can't stand my own smell, so I shower everyday." She said,"Oh that's good. Usually people who are really depressed won't shower, so that's really good that you get in the shower." I told her I wasn't depressed, I just didn't feel good. She told me to keep telling her about my day. I told her that what I do all day is throw up. That's it in a nut shell. After a minute she said,"Ok, I don't think you're depressed. I think you're just really sick and throw up all day. Here's my card and if you feel like you need someone to talk to, you can call me." I told her thank you and as she walked out the nurse walked in. She said that the first bag of fluids was gone. She asked if I just wanted to take the second bag home and do it there. I felt like I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I told her yes and we left. We don't have an IV pole, so B put a nail in the wall and hung the fluid in the nail. The TPN in in the pink bag behind my head.

Every Tuesday I had to go to the hospital and have the dressing around the PICC line changed. Since B was at work most Tuesdays, ladies from our ward would take me to the appointment. One Tuesday morning a nurse came into the room and asked if I was feeling any better. I told her maybe a little. She kind of laughed and said,"Well you sure don't look any better." I'm glad she's a nurse because clearly her people skills are amazing and she knows exactly what someone wants to hear. 

B was able to pull the PICC line out after I had had it for 8 weeks. I wish that the PICC line was magic and made it so I wasn't sick once it was out, but no such luck. I am sick the entire pregnancy. The worst part is over. I feel so much better than I did earlier on, but I still feel crappy. I imagine what I'm feeling is like normal morning sickness. I'm nauseous all the time, nothing sounds good to eat, and I'm always tired. Some days are for sure worse than others. People have asked me how I feel about another baby. For a long time I was in denial. I just kept waiting for the Dr to tell me that there was no heartbeat, that the baby had died. At one appointment the Dr told me that because of my advanced maternal age, there were a lot more risks for birth defects and problems. I told him that this wasn't planned. We didn't plan on having any more kids. We didn't want an almost four year gap between little B and another baby. We thought that we were done. For awhile I was really mad that I was pregnant. There isn't a lot about being pregnant that I like. Ok, I can't think of anything about pregnancy that I like. My mom tells me a lot,"at least the baby is worth it." I'm going to risk sounding totally awful but,  I have a really hard time with newborn's. All they do is cry and not sleep. They don't care who's holding them as long as the person holding them is bouncing or walking. They don't care who feeds them as long as they're getting food. I worry a lot about postpartum. I had a really hard time after M was born. It was a really dark time in my life and I wouldn't wish those feelings on my worst enemy. I will say that as time has gone on with this pregnancy, I don't feel mad anymore. I just wonder why it happened. I know that I shouldn't wonder because there's no answer but, I do. I wonder why it happened when it did. If it was going to happen, why didn't it happen when little B was younger so there wouldn't be such a big gap? I could probably come up with a million why questions but there's no point. Our kids are super excited and have name suggestions almost every day. I am to the point that I am excited for another one, once we're past the newborn stage. As we all know, time will pass, we'll all adjust and I'm sure we'll wonder how we ever thought our family was complete without this little baby.