#HFMD

It’s been a long time since I’ve written on this blog.  Hard to believe that when this blog began, my husband and I had just transferred a healthy embryo and I was in the throes of waiting. That dreaded waiting till the first beta.  Speaking to a girlfriend who is a day away from receiving what I hope will be great news, I thought of my own experience and how I had documented a lot of those first beginnings here on this blog.  My son, the result of a successful IVF transfer is now almost two years old.  Oh how time flies and how life gets moving so fast…

#HFMD

So here’s really why I wanted to write again. My Soul has been wanting to speak again through the written word, and share what was supposed to be the beginning of our second go with another IVF transfer yesterday.  Instead, we chose to forego the transfer after going through an entire hormone cycle because I caught the dreaded Hand Foot Mouth disease from my little one. To whoever says that adults aren’t really prone to catching it, I say bullocks. I call bullshit. Complete bullshit.  And if you are reading this and you’ve had it, I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. HFMD is probably the worst virus I have ever caught in my life – beats any gnarly flu, any cold sore break out, any stye.  Well, styes are pretty bad and cold sores are horrible, but this…this most definitely takes the cake. This was so bad, I haven’t even thought about the aborted transfer.

To give you a timeline of symptoms starting with my little one, he had a suspicious looking bump on his face in the evening on Monday. Tuesday morning, he woke up with a runny nose and an undiagnosed temperature. I was away working, the sitter said he felt hot, but let it go, and then when I got home and was there to greet him upon waking from his nap, the little dude was burning up. Scorched. I thought perhaps he was bundled up too warmly for nap time? I decided to watch and see.

Within an hour, my seemingly happy child who actually ate a small snack after nap was a completely different child. He whined and clinged and nothing could soothe him. I couldn’t get a temp read because he won’t let me. Finally, Dad was able to get a rectal read as I held him – 102.7 degrees. Frightening given this child has never had a fever that came on so sudden aside from a slight temp when his big teeth were coming in. Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink, so I offered a popsicle. Moms, IncrediPops are the way to go. No fillers, nothing weird…and he sucked on that till that aggravated him. There was nothing I could do except to hold him as I sat on the couch – and he’s not the sitting and cuddling type of child. I held him as he fell asleep at 5pm. His entire body shut down from the fever.

Wednesday. Day 3. Fever. A few bumps on his face crept up. On his chin, on his cheek. I am certain by this point he has somehow caught hand foot and mouth especially after one of our sitters said the other kids she watched had it. Perhaps she carried the virus into our home. Who knows. It’s been running rampant amongst the kids here where we live. Little guy didn’t eat much all day. I offered popsicles, fizzy water, coco water, anything, you name it. He wasn’t interested in food which was ok. I was thankful he was still taking in some fluids.

Thursday. Day 4. More bumps appeared. A few on his little hands, and a few on his little feet. He had more on his legs, especially his inner legs up to his groin. Those didn’t seem to bother him much, but the ones on his face began to each. Calendula cream seemed to help and we made our own blend of essential oils to help assist: 1-2 oz carrier oil of fractionated coconut oil, 5 drops of lavender, 5 drops of frankincense, 5 drops of melaleuca, and 5 drops of lemon. He seemed to like the oil blend for his oils and let us rub it onto the bigger blisters. His appetite came back a bit, and he had a few bites of porridge and oatmeal. Nothing hot. Luke warm stuff, he can tolerate. He had a few blisters in his mouth that we can see, but what was lurking in his throat was unbeknownst to us.

Friday. Day 5. His appetite is building, and his energy is almost completely back. We spent the morning puttering around outside in the backyard so he can feel human again. Still whiny and clingy and generally unhappy, but he is having pockets of feel good-ness. His energy level is getting better, meaning he’s not needing to take a morning nap from being so exhausted from the night before. Blisters starting to harden, redden and crust over. Appetite is returning. I forgot to mention the worst part of the first three days. Little man hardly slept. Every 20 minutes or so he would wail, cry and after about two minutes put himself back to sleep. He’s strong, but perhaps Mom isn’t so strong. I slept in his room with him the first night because it pained my heart to be away from him. That obviously resulted in no sleep on my end…the sleep schedule was all sorts of whack the first 4 days. It is now back to normal. Also, Mom gets the first symptom in the evening. Sore throat. Freaking out. Transfer is happening in a few days and all the hormones have been coursing through my body. If I get sick, all of the effort and the abuse on my body will have gone to waste.  I chose to continue with the hormones and have unfortunately also had begun the gnarly progesterone shots and the endometrium suppositories on top of doubling the estrace pills. I was also on medrol, doxy, and one other pill that I can’t recall. No doubt all of this contributed to my weakened immune system.

Saturday. Day 6. His blisters seemed to re-aggravate him and started bothering him. Rougher morning. We put more of the oil blend on him and made sure he wore socks. Socks socks, socks everywhere. Socks to bed. Now focus is shifted to Mom. I went for my usual acupuncture appointment to prep for transfer and my girlfriend right away put me on a heavy dose of antivirals, against my doctor’s orders. I had no symptoms other than the sore throat and a few suspicious looking red bumps on the roof of my mouth. By the evening, the sore throat was still there, but 4 tiny red bumps popped up on my left hand. Touching them felt odd, painful like a paper cut almost. Weird, but I’m on high alert. Freaked out. Freaked out at the possibility of catching this horrid virus and more so at the thought of foregoing the transfer. I’m upping all the C’s and zincs and garlics, but had to pass on the usual oregano and astragalus and wellness pills because my fertility doctor recommends against it in fear that it might affect my body in some weird way as it’s building up the fluffy lining.

Sunday. Day 7. I’m certain I caught HFMD from my little one. Those bumps got more painful and have spread to both hands. Still barely recognizable accept that the few areas infected were somewhat redder than the rest. I still had a sore throat, but it didn’t get worse. Still on the darn progesterone shots, but feeling really certain about canceling the transfer scheduled for the next morning. Bummed. Super bummed. Spoke to our doctor and decided it was the best thing to do. Transferring a super healthy embryo to a virus infected body isn’t the best decision, so got new prescription of prometrium to help my beautiful lining to shed. More medication, but apparently this one had to be taken at night as it causes drowsiness and nausea and dizziness. She warned me about going to the bathroom at night and being careful not to fall over. By the end of the day, my hands were on fire. It was covered with gnarly flat blisters, non-flat blisters and I was miserable. My hands were useless. I couldn’t bend the fingers much and normal day to day tasks were completely impossible. I was using my elbows and forearms to do the simplest tasks like opening the fridge door, turning on the faucet. Opening a bottle? Out of the question.

Monday. Day 8. The worst of it happened last night when I couldn’t sleep. My hands hurt and itched and I couldn’t find relief with anything. I tried all the remedies I read about online – baking soda soak, yogurt soak, ice, ice packs, cold water, all the essential oils I had…you name it. What finally worked and brought a little bit of relief was ibuprofen, and then laying my hands on icepacks. I slept for two and a half hours. It really was a miracle I caught any sleep at all. Upon waking, my hands looked red, angry and blistery. Much of it was still covered in flat blisters, the ones that lay under the skin. A few big ones had overhead blisters. Those itched. New ones continued to creep up till they started to slither up the sides of my fingers working its way to the top of my hands. My feet introduced a few new growths, but the bulk of it was still on my hands. This was probably the WORST day of this virus. The absolute worst. Blisters were boiling, and the only new thing I tried was soaking in a cup of Epsom salt. Like one cup of epsom to 4 cups of water. Insanely drying, but it seemed to hold off the pain and the itch for a good half hour. Amazing. Then I slathered on some calendula cream and the two together seemed to work. This was the best remedy I’ve found in combating this stupid virus. I spent the day miserable, making everyone else around me miserable and the worst part of it was that I still was totally helpless and had to ask my Mother and my Husband to do even the most menial tasks and then feeling like they were annoyed with me because it sounded like I was just ordering them around left and right. The good news was, by nighttime, I was still hovering both hands on ice packs, but dozed off with a super strong dose of ibuprofen. I slept for chunks of hours straight. Woke up a few times, but I slept. Amazing.

Tuesday. Day 9. I’m typing. My fingers feel like they are covered in super glue, lacking sensation and completely hard to the touch. Pressure underneath my nails – I am certain it will fall off in a few weeks like some of the horror stories I have read. HFMD. The gift that keeps on giving. I was able to move around a bit more today, although more new blisters popped up on my feet which made walking slightly more miserable, however, I got a little bit more use out of my hands. They feel like the skin have shrink wrapped around the bones and stretching my fingers out completely seems like an impossible task as is making fists. Some blisters are still angry, but some have simply numbed out. Best day yet. My sore throat has subsided and my energy was better than the previous days. I hope this is the worst of it and I can get on with my life.

 

Some additional suggestions:

Sponge bath your kid(s) – I didn’t know how painful it was to even be near any sort of heat until I got it. It’s painful to be in a tub of water. Now I know why he was crying and hated it the first few days. We didn’t brush his teeth for a week. Still haven’t.  Maybe tonight we will try. Socks are a must. In prevention of spreading the virus too.

Personally I haven’t showered in three days, or is it four!?! Disinfect like crazy. Diffuse oregano, or Thieves or Onguard constantly. Tea tree oil and lemon and eucalyptus to disinfect. Or any citrus oil for that matter. Wear gloves so you don’t spread the virus everywhere and yes, you can catch this virus again. Let’s hope not.

This thing has been so vile and gross and made me so miserable that I haven’t even spent a minute thinking of the missed transfer. That’s telling.

 

On being a Mother

Wow. It’s been almost a full year since my last post. I wonder where time goes?
My girlfriend who herself is trying to conceive reminded me of my blog, pineapples and avocados, last night. It was such a sweet remembrance that I spent some much needed super precious sleep time re-reading some of my old blog posts from last year, all the way back to my earliest posts – these words that dripped with anxiety while I was waiting for a successful implantation…and my thoughts on first trimester complaints and indulgences. Then heart attack, then cancer…
It was such a wonderful, yet challenging year and suddenly, with the blink of an eye, I’m well into motherhood, having been blessed with my healthy, happy baby boy who is now four months and 1 week old. 
What?!
I am now a Mom? I’m someone’s mother? I have a son? These are all words and titles and roles that I’m still settling into. It all sounds foreign and sometimes still feels foreign. Reminds me of the days back when I was newly engaged, newly married, and my title became fiancé, and then wife. It took sometime getting used to saying, “my Husband”, and now here I am getting used to saying, “I’m a Mother. I have a son.” Weird. 
But this is something I’ve always wanted I guess. Perhaps not overtly…I wasn’t the girl who coo’d over other people’s babies. Babies scared me. Little toddlers perhaps scared me more. I was awkward around them and certainly didn’t feel the need to play with them, to interact with them…I was happy being in my big people world, having meaningful big people conversations. Now, my world revolves around my little person, having little people conversations…conversations that are setting the foundation for my little one to communicate. It’s kind of a big deal. And never before have I been so careful and articulate with my choice of coos, giggles, words, making sure each one makes my son feel heard, valued, and loved. To think, if I can only be consistent and this intentional about my words in my big people relationships – what a world of difference it can make! 
Mommyhood is the hardest, most challenging thing I have ever done in my life. I’ll dare to say that any woman who has chosen this path will say the exact same thing. 
Tbc

Mama.

My mom is here for the weekend along with her younger sister, one of my favorite aunties. Both showed up yesterday, cooked up a storm all afternoon to quench my pregnancy belly and slept over. In fact, they are still sleeping over upstairs in the guest bedroom, quietly snoring away. I know because I snuck up there and heard them deep in slumber. Sweet.

Sometimes I take my mother for granted. Truth. I’m trying to change that. We haven’t had the easiest childhood growing up and she still is working out her karma with my father which doesn’t leave her much mental room to be present for much else, though I know she’s trying hard. And for that, I’m proud of her. I should tell her that more. My mother, while she struggles to be  a present parent on a day to day basis, is absolutely dependable and reliable when the shit hits the fan.

There’s been a few times in my life where the shit has hit the fan. Like the time I decided to up and move to London after I got engaged to a man I barely even knew after 4 days of knowing him. Rather than judge me for my decision to leave, she said the best thing a worried mother could have said at that time…”You can always come home.” And come home I did, after a year of trying to make an engagement work. I don’t know if I would have been that supportive, truthfully. If my own daughter did that, I would have tied her down and gagged her and kept her on lock down. Well, I think I would have done that, but who really knows? My mother stayed by the phone with me every day of that sometimes awful, but necessary year, and the day I decided that it was enough…(this was me trying to work on the relationship, traveling back to the US every three months, going back to the UK miserable, struggling with an abusive relationship, moving out to a gf’s over on Bermondsey, giving it another go…) and finally one morning, I decided enough was enough. Called my mother, told her I was going to move home and the only thing she said at that moment which was the BEST thing she could have said was “Good. Come home.” Then of course, like any good parent, made sure to ask if I had money to move, etc etc etc. Off I went to buy boxes, still driving on the wrong side of the road (by US standards), packed up, and shipped out. It’s interesting how she can walk between that fine line of absolute perfection, and driving you mad day to day.

Mom, I realize is pretty damn amazing. She might still be struggling with her own life issues, things she needs to sort out, but man, when I need her, she’s there.  At the end of the day, I trust her…and I love her dearly. Thanks for making a trip down memory lane with me.

So on to the pregnancy. My 4th day of feeling OK. OK! DID YOU READ THAT? OK! I’m almost reluctant to type this in fear that somehow it will jinx it, but I feel ok. My headache has been pretty much gone for the past four days, my nausea has subsided, although I still take about 3 Tums a day in fear that the reflux will creep in…my appetite has been better, not exceptional, but better. Still need to take that nap mid afternoon, but I think I might be creeping out of the woods! My husband seems to think so.

I’ve been making a more concerted effort to eat something every couple of hours. I think that’s been helping to quell the nausea, and while the amount of food I can take has drastically decreased because I feel like the uterus has moved up out of the pelvis and is squishing my organs up, it’s manageable. Just making sure I am standing, or sitting tall, so my diaphragm has some room. My breathing has been labored and short. I figure it’s because of the shift in innards…and it also helps to digest. If we are all slumped over when eating, it decreases the amount of room in our stomachs, especially at this juncture.  Eating small meals absolutely help.

A few things on my mind…I’ve been finding myself trolling through some of the beautiful dresses I see online. Just this morning, I stumbled on a new site that seem to have dresses that I would love to have one in every single color and while usually I would pull the trigger and maybe go for ordering one, I had to pull back.  The reality of my ever changing figure would never fit into that darn dress a few weeks from now, or at least, I certainly wouldn’t look like the cover girl, that’s for sure.

The reality of my ever changing figure. 

I haven’t yet quite found myself mourning the loss of being thin, or svelte as I’ve once been called (which I actually enjoyed at that time in my life), but I do find myself a bit uneasy, not knowing what’s going to fit anymore as the pregnancy progresses along, and occasionally wondering if I’m ever going to get my figure back. I’m 36, not a spring chicken anymore, and wisely assume that my body probably will be a size or two larger after the pregnancy…and I’m not sure how fast my body will bounce back…if ever. That’s the reality I’m working with. I’m concerned about the lack of exercise the last few months of my life, not having much energy to do much, to practice yoga, although I’m still teaching 5 days a week. The little bit I get in from teaching isn’t enough to sustain a strong pregnancy. Anytime I find myself becoming attached to the need to know, I try and remember to shift into Surrender mode and remember that this entire process is one of surrender. It really isn’t anything else.

This is the ultimate practice of Surrender…surrendering what I think this pregnancy should be, how it should progress, how I should be feeling, what I should look like, what I should be eating…and perhaps the most important surrendering exercise right before baby comes along – surrendering to labor. Every woman has an ideal labor and birth story. We think about it all through pregnancy, we research, we read, we practice, we study…we take classes…and the truth is, even writing down your birth plan and rehearsing that with your doula, your midwife, your birth partner…none of that really matters when the day comes. Labor rarely happens the way we’ve envisioned it in our minds. Sometimes we end up with the type of birth that we hoped for, and other times, well, it just doesn’t go that way.

For me, I’m trying to prep myself mentally, emotionally, spiritually for the birth of our baby boy. I’m deeply committed to working through my fears of labor before that day comes so that through practice, I have the tools necessary to be present with labor and experience the natural birth I’m hoping for. Natural birth. I’d like that. But the practice starts now for me. That means, actively flooding my mind and eyes with only images and information that supports the type of birth I want, and staying away from anything that instills more fear inside my mind and my body. If I can eradicate most of the fear I have with pain associated, or at least re-pattern the way I relate to pain, I think I’m one step closer to having the experience I’m hoping for.

I’m reading Ina May’s guide to Childbirth at the moment. In September, my husband and I will be attending Hypno-birthing class to prep us for birth. Between now and then, I’ll probably have a few more goodies to share. My husband and I are heading to meet a new obstetrician on Tuesday, one that is affiliated with the hospital that I’d like to birth at – hopefully I will have a stronger connection with her than my present obgyn. Since the symptoms have subsided a bit, I’m finally getting in gear to prep for the changes ahead. Doctor change. Check. Tours of hospitals. Check. Doula interviews. Checking. Back to yoga. Check. Prenatal yoga with one of my favorite prenatal yogini teachers. Check. Eat. Check. Baby’s room. Checking. Strolling through the baby aisles…check!

Wishing everyone a great Sunday & happy healthy pregnancy!

In tears…

The headache won’t go away. It set in early last night, husband and I had a disagreement, I retreated to bed, probably should have taken the time to drink more water, noticing the headache, but decided to just try and sleep it off.  That didn’t work. My spine is all tweaked again, which means my neck is all tweaked…not sure if that had anything to do with the onset of the headache.  I was up all night. Finally got out of bed at midnight and tried to look for some tylenol that was packed in our bags when we went away for the weekend. Couldn’t find it. Tried peppermint oil, that didn’t work. Drank some water, and scuffled back to bed. Two o’clock. Three o’clock. I get out of bed to try and find the tylenol again, and found half in the pill cutter. Took that. Drank some more water, scuffled back to bed. Stayed awake, re-reading my old blog posts and realizing how far this pregnancy has come. Tried to sleep. Headache still there. Pounding in my temples and at the nape of my neck. Finally kind of dozed off I think, but still somewhat awake, around 5, I get up to go pee, and then try to cover my eyes from the impending rise of the sun. Headache still there, although a bit lessened by the tylenol. 6:45am, up, still miserable, and I get up to go look for the tylenol again and found it in the husband’s car. I just took another half. 250 mg.

Tears start to run down my face. I’m so miserable from all this pregnancy discomfort and pain…I really don’t know how much longer of this I can take. Falling into the trap of feeling sorry for myself doesn’t cut it either, but it sure feels a bit like a self-pity party. I’m usually not a negative person, but I feel like I’ve been nothing but a pained debbie downer since the onset of the morning sickness and headaches. I don’t know who I am anymore. We are 13.5 weeks in, well, almost 14 weeks on Wednesday, so 13 weeks and 5 days I guess and I just can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Help. Me. Someone. Something. I don’t want to spend my entire pregnancy like this, with the joy sucked out of me.

This has got to be the hardest thing I’ve done so far in my life.

Anyone else feel this terrible?  So terrible that it’s pulling a shroud over should be a lovely time in your pregnancy?

On vacationing…

Happy 4th from Palm Springs!

Why we are here in this unbearable heat?! Well, we couldn’t get it together to find a dog-friendly place up the coast and didn’t want to spend an arm and a leg for a weekend get-away which we very much need, so we settled on Palm Springs, on a house, with a pool. Mid-century style. It’s now climbing over 110 degrees outside and we are comfortably resting indoors, relaxing in mid 70’s weather.

I’m still miserable…yep. Still suffering. The suffering schedule is a little less predictable now. I’ve been miserable upon waking today, and yesterday, the miserableness set in around mid-afternoon. The day before that, I was feeling ok until early evening, and by late evening, I was back in the feeling gross seat.

We had a nuchal fold test done on Thursday afternoon and got the green light from the doc saying all looks simply perfect. Thumbs up to tell the world we are pregnant. It’s weird to be offered that option – we’re still quite mum about it – announcing it to the world, or on Facebook, or twitter, or instagram just doesn’t feel like our thing right now. Nor is babbling about it first thing to friends and family. Still on need to know basis. And if it feels right, we might tell, or we might not. It’s just such a personal event to be announcing to the world…at least that’s the way I feel about it right now. Who knows? It might all change when I’m not able to hide it anymore, or when I’m really starting to show. For now, my husband definitely says I look preggers, but to the naked eye, no way. I’m not making it a habit of sucking my belly in and in fact, whenever I walk past shop windows, I’ll take a peek…and to me, I absolutely look pregnant. The fabric rests on my belly now and there’s definitely a pooch going on. Strange, as we stay quiet about our baby arriving early January, it seems like everyone else is busy announcing it formally on social media…while no announcements for us yet, I am happy to hear about all the mama-to-be news around me! There’s definitely preggers energy all around!

Hubs just went out in the unbearable heat to get us some lunch and not knowing what I wanted to eat, came back with gluten free pizza and fish tacos. He’s having a beer and our two dogs are chillin’ inside with us. I’m grateful for him, and I’m grateful that we are in this together. He’s excited and can’t wait to see the belly get bigger…and while I’m constantly saying I feel “fat” as my belly grows, my diet stays horrible, and my lack of exercise is making me feel even more soft and out of shape, he tells me that I look beautiful and “pregnant”, making sure I caught on to the difference between the two. Fat and pregnant aren’t the same thing and he’s right. I guess in my mind, I always thought I was going to be a strong pregnant momma, feeling great mentally and physically, but that just hasn’t been the case. I can’t even get myself to walk…all I want to do is sit on the couch, or err, lay on the couch. Sleep. Eat…well, not really. Eating has been rough, like I write in all of my posts. It’s more like forcing myself to eat. It hasn’t been pretty. We went out to our first date in a long while last night, and I had to leave after the appetizers because of the nausea and the heartburn. Asked them to pack all the food to go and took it home. For a moment, all I wanted was to feel like a normal human being again, living, experiencing and trying a damn new restaurant. At least we did, briefly, before we retreated back to our rental and I changed into my comfy, un-restricting clothes, and took a few bites of the mains we didn’t get to try at the restaurant. Hardly a few bites. More like a few nibbles. Friday’s weigh-in at the doc’s had me at 117lbs. I think I dropped a few more pounds…worrisome. I need my appetite back and the nausea to subside. Really. Dear God, It’s me Margaret. Can you please help rid these awful symptoms please? Thank you. And Amen.

Maybe I’ll go back to acupuncture regularly again. Perhaps that will help.

Or perhaps a swim a little later when it cools down to 90 will help…or perhaps just staying inside in the cool cool indoors will be better…that sounds pretty good right about now.

Happy 4th everyone!

Word of the Week: Heartburn.

Or is it indigestion? Or Nausea?

Nausea is a for sure. But is it caused from heartburn, or indigestion, or both?

Either way, the blend of the above is kicking my ass. I’ve been sidelined again for 4 days now, after 3 glorious days of feeling wonderful the moment we reached 12 weeks. Then by 12 1/2 weeks, bam, the nausea came back again, probably instigated by the heartburn, and it begins even in the MORNING. Mornings are sacred to me. I was happy to feel relatively human in the mornings for the past few weeks…but now, no more. I’m back to eating kind of like crap, and nursing my yogurt in the mornings again. Green smoothies no more. Frozen pizza doctored with dill pickles and olives by the husband, yes. I am happy to mention though that we are officially in the 13th week of pregnancy…2nd trimester baby!

Recently, I’ve been making a giant banana pancake for dinner, which I’m really only about to eat half, if that. My recipe below is eyeballed, but it should work for you.

For one person:

1/2 banana mashed with a fork

1/3 to 1/2 gluten free pancake mix

1 egg white

1 tsp MCT oil

mix mix mix.

Spray your pan with some cooking spray and pour the mixture in.

And that’s all folks. Eat with some maple syrup.

I’m now stocked up on Tums and Mylanta and I even asked my hubs to get me some gum yesterday. I’m not a regular gum chewer, and after reading a few articles online, figured I should give it a try. Extra is just too potent for me. It was like fireworks in my mouth so I spit it back out. He also purchased two teas for me, one is from Yogi Teas called Mother to Be, and the other is from Earth Mama Angel Baby Organics, called Organic Heartburn Tea. It’s interesting because the Yogi Tea has peppermint and I read something this morning about staying away from Peppermint tea to soothe heartburn because it actually relaxes your muscles in your esophagus, ultimately leading to more acid reflux.  The EMAB one does not have peppermint, just spearmint.  I think I’ll stick to that one for now.

The headaches still threaten to come back when I don’t drink enough water. My doc says 3L a day is what I should aim for. Closest I’ve ever gotten so far is 2L.  Having any sort of indigestion or heartburn really takes away the desire to put anything in your mouth, liquid or not.  One of my other lovely yogis who is birthing next month swore up and down that the nausea comes when she doesn’t have food in her stomach, so she keeps a protein bar handy and noshes on that whenever she feels the hunger pains. I’m trying to do that too with Kind bars. Not the most appealing because any sort of sugar leaves this horrible after taste in my mouth. Permanently. At least it’s what it feels like.

My sense of smell, or what I’d like to call my Snout lately has been intense.  From smelling my dogs, to foods, to my husband’s hair wax, to god knows what else, everything smells ultra intense and makes me want to puke. Any sort of incense, pinion, palo santo…no way. I’m starting to notice my emotions get a little intense too, over little things…like the smells in the house, and demanding that my husband take care of it right away. Thankfully, he’s been a bit patient with me and those moments haven’t turned into fights.

The only other thing is a constant cramping lately. Just overall bloating, and discomfort in the belly. Most mornings I wake up and hardly see the belly, but recently, it has’t been that way. The belly is still there in the mornings, and it feels like it is stretching my skin. And or my muscular wall. I feel bloated. All the time now. The one great thing to report is…drum roll…I didn’t get up to go to the bathroom last night!!! It might be because I didn’t drink as much water as I normally do, but either way, hallelujah!!

Close but seemingly oh so far…

It’s true. It comes and goes. You feel better, and then wham, you’re back at it, nauseous and sick.

I had 4 glorious days of feeling like a normal human being, albeit the fatigue and slight, very slight nausea settles back in during the evening hours. For the past two days, the symptoms came back again…slowly. Yesterday was miserable. Indigestion, or nausea, I can never tell. It feels like one and the same to me. Indigestion causing nausea, or just plain old nausea. It started around 1pm, and lasted all evening. I was a vegetable. Went to a baby shower and felt horrible the ENTIRE time till I finally excused myself after telling the beloved mamma to be that I was too pregnant, and am about to hurl.

Sadly, I had maybe one day of feeling like my appetite came back…and even through the few days where I felt fine, I still didn’t quite have the desire to eat.  Meaning, I was hungry, but the thought of food still somewhat made me feel queasy. I’m still having a hard time trying to eat…and it feels more like trying to stuff down calories than enjoying anything tasty in my mouth, however, I did have a moment yesterday morning where I woke up, had a green smoothie, went back to take a nap, woke up again at 9am and felt this deep desire to make a quiche. Quiche was easy because we had the ingredients in the house already. I had a slice, but then just didn’t feel good after. Maybe that was the cause of the unrelenting indigestion or nausea. Both, perhaps.

I was googling this morning, wondering if women felt good and then bad and then felt good again, and of course these symptoms are all very common. Much like all the symptoms I try and google these days. We women are each so different, yet there hasn’t been a woman who hasn’t gone through yet what you are going through somewhere, some time ago. While it is soothing to know that I’m not on my own train, I was hoping to read that yes! This absolutely means that your first trimester queasiness and feeling icky is definitely on the way out! No, some say you’ll stick with it longer, some say it is the end of it. Who to believe? Every woman is different…and every pregnancy is different. I just hope I won’t be sick longer than I can handle!