Hugs, not Drugs!

Most of my past weekend was a blur.  Not the "I-just-had-so-much-fun" kind, but the kind that happens after a hazy, sick in bed weekend of pain.  As the fog is slowly lifting, and as I talk to my family, I realize not only how lucky I am, and how blessed that both Micah and I are doing fine, but I also realize why I am a no meds person.

I never take medicine.  I do not like that fuzzy head feeling, the common side effects, or the fact that I am not a normal side effects kind of person.  I am the kind of person that has rare, startling, or bizarre side effects of medicine.  I use more natural remedies because of this.  Upset tummy?  Fresh mint tea.  Headache?  Peppermint essential oil.  Toothache?  Clove oil.  I use a Neti Pot for my sinuses, and have been so stuffy that I have tried inhaling crushed red pepper.  Once.

For this pregnancy I have had to take my vitamins, which I am OK with.  Plus calcium and baby aspirin to help control blood pressure.  And B6 for my morning sickness.  And then medicine for my thyroid.  I seriously could not keep it all straight!  After my hospital adventure last week I added high blood pressure medicine.  Enter the bizarre side effects.  The not your average side effects.  Dizziness, weakness, fatigue, leg cramps, etc.  Then began the chest pain and my second, and then third adventure to the ER.  In the same weekend.  In order to determine if my chest pain was caused by the pulled muscle, instead of having a CT scan while pregnant, I was given a pain pill.  If my muscle relaxed, I would have no pain and be able to catch my breath. 

About 30 minutes after taking the pill I was breathing normally.  My dad, relieved that I was going to be fine and knowing I was going to be released soon, left the hospital.  What transpired over the next couple of hours are only hazy memories and the laughing reflections of my husband.  Not long after my dad left the hospital I began crying because he is such a nice man.  When I was released, I insisted that I needed a hamburger.  Made at Sheetz.  By my brother Josh.  Who, coincidentally does make delicious hamburgers, but not at Sheetz, seeing as how he does not in fact work there.  I was still set on Sheetz, so I insisted that we stop, at which point I could not order my food because the touch screen was confusing me, got a quesadilla, and was confused as to why they were not charging for my cup of ice.  Which made me cry a little bit.  I did not know how to pay no money.

On the way home I ate and was sad because my food was not as good as Josh makes.  I wanted Tony to meet me at the restaurant he works at, now close to midnight, to make me a hamburger.  Then I decided to just stop at Wal Mart to get Josh a quesadilla maker.  And, because I can not get Josh such a lovely present without getting one for Tony too, I was planning on finding him a tiny Eskimo.  A tiny Eskimo that makes ice cream.  Complete with the fur coat.  I could picture it in my mind. 

Needless to say, Andy was driving.  We did not stop at Wal Mart.  I fell asleep on the way home.  I have no recollection of getting from the van to my bed.  I do have a bruise from teh adventure, on my ankle.  I woke up well rested, even with the return of the chest pain, and a lingering feeling that I needed to find an Eskimo.  Or at the very least have some ice cream.

One Thursday Morning

There is not really any pregnancy that has no problems, no uncomfortable days.  I know at the beginning of this pregnancy I was super sick.  That happens.  I had to take the super long glucose test, which turned out exceptional.  And there was that day I had heat exhaustion at camp.  Pregnant in a heat wave, it happens.  So I consider that a relatively normal pregnancy.  I had been feeling great, Micah is moving and squirming around, growing like he is supposed to be doing.  Nesting set in and I was on a cleaning streak.

On Thursday morning I woke up not feeling quite right.  I figured I would switch from mad cleaning to a full day of doing my school work, and maybe treat the kids to a walk for some candy if they let me work in peace.  It was not uncomfortably hot, so when I barely made it to the bathroom with super amounts of swelling I was surprised.  By the time I got to the kitchen I could not make a fist because my hands were so swollen, and my toes were not.  Odd, but so is pregnancy. 

I did school for a while, still not feeling well.  I decided to lay down on my left side as so commonly told to do in pregnancy.  When my mom stopped over my whole face was swollen.  I took the kids to Giant Eagle for their snack, and checked my blood pressure.  I was high,but the machine was not working correctly so I was not sure.  By the time Andy came home my eyes were almost swollen shut. 

We headed to our chiropractor appointment, figuring I would check my blood pressure at Walmart and sit on the bench while Andy got groceries for supper.  My first reading was cause for concern, and the readings kept creeping up over the time I spent waiting and checking.  When it read 170/99 I knew I had to be seen.  We stopped to grab food at the closest drive through.  By the time we hit Johnstown I was pretty out of it.  My head was hurting very bad, I could see thumping spots, and was super sick to my stomach.  I was not entirely convinced I would be ok, but we had the kids with us so I did not say too much.

Andy had to drop me off at the ER and go park.  I was taken straight up to Labor and Delivery.  Andy sat in the waiting room with the kids, keeping in touch by text, until I saw the doctor.  I was feeling worse by the minute.  The doctor came in, looked at me, and called for a nurse to start the IV.  I told Andy, who came in to get a list of what I would need for short stay.  As soon as he left to drop of the kids and grab my stuff it got interesting. 

The IV nurse came in to do initial blood work and the second the needle hit my arm I been convulsing.  She hit an alarm, and nurses came running.  The doctor came in.  I heard them talking, got a shot, and then was told I had taken a seizure because my blood pressure spiked to 190/110.  I was put on a magnesium drip, which made me hot, itchy, and sick.  Several times I had to get shots for vomiting, they did blood work every few hours. 

After about an hour, the doctor ordered shots to help boost the baby's lungs.  If I was not doing better soon they wanted to induce at 33 weeks.  I began to cry.  Throughout the night my blood pressure was taken every 15 minutes, spiking quite high and then dropping dangerously low.  At one point I was told it dropped as low as 88/50, at which point I had another seizure.  Then more meds. 

I was taken off the magnesium drip after 12 hours.  It felt like 12 days.  They were running constant blood work, and urinalysis for 24 hours.  After coming off the IV I could not walk.  I could not stand without shaking.  For the first time in my life I was on my knees sobbing for help and had to hit the alarm to call for the nurse. 

After a long 24 hours, the tests came back borderline.  I was not diagnosed with pre-eclampsia, but with sudden onset pregnancy induced high blood pressure.  I was sent home feeling only slightly better than when I arrived.  I cried the whole way home.  I was terrified to leave the nurses and the consoling fact that if something happened they knew right away.  It is about a 45 minute drive, an eternity in an emergency.  And yet I so badly wanted to hold my kids.  By the time I got to my mothers to pick them up I could hardly  move.  A splitting headache, swelling beginning, and sick to my stomach.  I was ready to go right back to the ER when I could not walk myself to the van.  Andy and my Dad had to get me there, after I had to ask for help for the second time that day.

I crawled up to my room.  Bed rest until Monday.  We have an ultrasound to check the little man's size, and my check up to know what is going on with my blood pressure.  It needs to be regulated through my medicine or they will have no choice but to induce early.  If today is any indicator, so far the medicine is not working.  I can not stand up at all without my blood pressure spiking high enough to effect my ability to walk.  Trips to the bathroom are quite an ordeal.  There are side effects to both the magnesium and the new medicine I have to take, so hopefully in a few days this will even out.

Please be in prayer for us.  As much as I want to meet my little guy, I need him to be safe more.  He needs more time, and I need to be okay enough to give it to him.  I also need to keep trucking on the cleaning up, my school work, and the fun of preparing for meeting Mr. Micah. 

Nesting; Not Just for the Birds

I walked into our bathroom today, for the millionth time, and decided that I simply could not leave until it was clean.  I scrubbed the shower, the sink, the toilet, rearranged the shelves, wiped the mirror, cleaned the window, and took the curtians to the wash.  I swept and scrubbed the floor. 

As I was busy, Isaac and Faith kept sneaking up on me. I think they wanted to ask me something.  They just stared.  A few minutes later, David pops in.  He asked why I am cleaning the bathroom, thinking that I must have thrown up, and this should tell you how often I scrub down our rooms. 

Soon Angel peeks in, and checks back with the other kids.  The conversation has me cracking up as I am scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees because that is the only way I was convinced it was clean. 

Angel walks back to the living room and this is basically what she said:

"I do not think she is sick guys.  Remember yesterday when she had us put away all the laundry and explained that sometimes pregnant women need to clean?  I am pretty sure that is what is happening.  You see, I have seen her pregnant many times before, and everytime it is different.  It can be scary, but if she is doing something you have a few choices.  Offer to help, but only if you mean it.  Stay far away until she calls for you then hurry it up to get there.  Bring her water and tell her you love her.  Never drink the last Pepsi or eat the last chocolate.  And remember, it is almost August."

So apparently the nesting bug has hit me hard, and for the first time.  I went for me daily after lunch ice cream and cleaned out the freezer.  I was going to make coffee, but never got around to it because I simply had to do the dishes first.  I could not stop at washing the bathroom curtians, I had to fill the load so I put in the living room and den curtians as well.  Which meant that I am now taking a short break from cleaning those rooms as the kids play checkers.  Before I scare them too badly I better send them outside to splash in the yard.  And I have to hang in there, after all, it is almost August.

Defcon 5

The girls have been at camp since Sunday.  I am swimming in a sea of testosterone, surrounded by my boys, my husband, and even carrying a son.  It is interesting around here.  I grew up with no sisters and four brothers, so I should be used to this, but it is not something that females are supposed to get used to, I think.  It is why we tend to travel in packs, for our own protection.

Usually when I have something to gt done my girls bustle around, seeming to instinctively know what I mean when I say something stupid like put your laundry in the trash.  They assume that I mean toss the dryer sheet and put away your clothes, and they do.  My sons, however, follow my directions exactly.  So I find myself repeating what I thought I already said.  A whole bunch. 

If we are doing laundry my girls know that switch the laundry is a multi-step process that involves opening the dryer, removing laundry and placing it into a basket, opening the washer, moving clothing from the washer to the dryer, tossing in a dryer sheet, closing the dryer door and hitting the start button.  They then at times go a step further and add more dirty laundry to the washer, with laundry detergent, and turn it on.  After this, they carry up the clean.  Now, the girls are older, but have been doing this for years.  The boys idea of switching laundry involves moving piles of clothing around so it looks like less dirty laundry, riding dirty laundry down the steps, and playing in the formally full baskets.

Today, I declared laundry day. We have a mountain of dirty towels, as always, plus tons of blankets, sleeping bags, and quilts from camp.  Not that in these hot days and nights we will be needing them, but I would like them cleaned and put away to make room for the landfill that is going to arrive when the girls get home from a week at camp. 

I have already done several loads today, and reached the point of washing the sleeping bags.  This is where it gets interesting.  We do not allow the boys to use any heavy machinery, power tools, or even anything more dangerous than a butter knife without supervision.  I do not have them run the washer or dryer, mostly not because they do not know how, but because I can not be sure what they put in, laundry, toys, plastics, crayons, the cat, each other... 

As I was, umm, indisposed, the washer began the spin cycle.  With a heavy sleeping bag inside.  It was off balance.  David started screaming.  Isaac declared that we reached Def con 5 because the whole house was going to shake apart.  He was running around making siren noises and trying to evacuate the house.  From the bathroom I am yelling at them to calm down, which never helps, I know, but it was all I could do at the time. They ran to the washing machine.  I ran out of the bathroom as only an 8 month pregnant woman with a broken toe and sprained ankle can.  (That is a different story altogether, and not as exciting.)  They were already running back up the steps after "fixing" the problem.  They opened the washer, saw that the clothes were still in water, thankfully, because they normally would not have stopped to notice such a small detail, so they figured that the load was not done.  They added much more laundry detergent, and restarted the cycle.  Which is better than flopping the already heavy, now dripping wet sleeping bag on the floor.

So in about 40 minutes, I am sure that we will reach Def con 5.  Again.  This time I plan on intercepting before the sleeping bag disintegrates from an overload of laundry detergent and too much time in the washer.  I may have to go sit in front of the washer in about 35 minutes to head them off.  Or we will have  pre-lunch ice cream to distract them.  I vote ice cream.  And then, maybe a nap.

Things I Learned This Year at Camp

1.  Two three year olds is a lot of three year olds.

2.  At 8 months pregnant, every thing is twice as hard as it should be.  At camp everything is twice as hard as it should be.  That means that 8 months pregnant at camp is ten times harder than it should be.  Just trust me on the math.

3.  Eleven days is a long time to go camping.  A V-E-R-Y long time to go camping.

4.  A pregnant woman can drink 5 to 6 bottles of water and still be dehydrated in 95 degree heat.  And  our family really can not go camping without a trip to the ER.

5.  A little dirt does not hurt.

6.  Five kids at camp will all want to do something at the same time.  About eight different somethings. 

7.  Ice cream is expensive, yet a good moisturizer.

8.  One should never take five kids camping for finals week.

9.  Chopping wood is not a pregnant woman activity.  Or carrying wood.  Or carrying water. 

10.  Little boys can scream like little girls when attacked by flies.

11.  Sometimes sticky kisses and smiling faces are the only thanks I need.  Chocolate is also appreciated.

12.  Craft sticks are the best kid friendly item to take to camp.

13.  Never let your kids make friends with the bait.

14.  The sleeping limit on a camper is only a suggestion.

15.  You are never too old to lay under the stars, catch fireflies, eat a smore, or swing in a hammock.

16.  Playing pranks on the girl's bathroom is not only a little boy activity.

17.  Rocks, sticks, and inch works can fill an afternoon with delight.

18.  You can never have too many bubbles.  Or ice cream.  Or flashlights.  Or salamanders.

19.  There is no way to put the experience into pictures.

20.   There is a reason that we camp once a year.