Not inhabiting the potentially pregnant body means both less obsessing about symptom-non-symptoms and also a greater feeling of general disconnection and anxiety about the whole process. Like, mostly I am not constantly thinking about maybe being pregnant but then when I do, I feel so crazy because I have absolutely no information at all, not even the vaguest hint of false information. It’s . . .weird? different? better? I don’t know.
I do know that L’s boobs hurt REALLY bad because she talks about it all the time (this is not complaining, BTW; I also complained about boob pain because when those things hurt they fucking HURT!) – so it’s the clearest symptom I can point toward. Of course, we both know that those fun little progesterone pills up the vag can cause breast tenderness just as easily as a burrowing embryo. I’m hoping that the intensity of the breast pain means good news is on it’s way but . . .”could mean everything/could mean nothing” is the meditation of the TWW, is it not?
We still haven’t decided when to test, I suggested this coming Wednesday or Thursday, figuring the HCG should be out by around 10-11 days after trigger, and a positive is possible. We all know that I am terrible about waiting to test. I did go buy L a bunch of walm.art tests (which is significant because the walm.art near us makes me feel fucking intensely anxious every time I even get near it) with a plan of testing out the trigger but the first test she took on Monday to do so ended up being a dud (no control line popped) and the rest of the week’s events have sort of eclipsed pee stick obsession. So, now we are stuck in the trigger/legit positive limbo that so many of us know so well.
But on to the rest of the week!
So, last Saturday we all got up early and headed out of the house. Ansel and I took L to the clinic for a 9:30am IUI and we went to an indoor play cafe to bide our time. The IUI, by all accounts, went well – aside from the nurse apologizing that L might feel more discomfort from the speculum if she’s “not used to things being up there’ – somehow insinuating that heterosexual ladies experience so much comfort with the process because a penis and a speculum are so similar?! In any case, the donor had great numbers and the process itself was uneventful. L felt fullness in her ovaries until late Saturday/early Sunday – so, good news on that front too.
Once the deed was done, we picked L up and got on the road to Portland so L could attend a meeting. Unfortunately, thanks to a small fender bender I was in a while back (I will save my tirade about Seattle drivers for another post), my car was in the shop getting repaired and L’s was getting a factory recall part replaced, leaving us with the rental my insurance was providing – a tiny, 3 door coupe with zero pick up. The worst part of this car was that it’s size meant A’s carseat sat up more vertically than normal (he’s still rear facing) which limited his ability to nap well on the drive. I spent half the drive down in the back with him, letting him watch youtube to keep him from totally losing his shit. It was nerve wracking for all of us, and then just blocks from the hotel, he barfed all over himself and me after shoving too many goldfish crackers in his mouth.
Salt in the wound when we arrived – the hotel room wasn’t ready yet. L had to get to her meeting, Ansel hadn’t napped and we were both covered in vomit. We changed him, but in a request for the room to be made up, then went across the street to a hipster deli where he ate an entire hotdog and his own weight in ketchup off a pickle spear. After lunch, the room still wasn’t ready so we walked down to Powell’s, where we made it 5 minutes before a full scale body-on-the-floor tantrum ensued. We walked back to the hotel and I decided the best way to expedite the room readying process was to expose the hotel staff to my tantruming toddler to prove just how badly we needed the room. That plus full term nursing seemed to work. Ansel was able to get a little nap and I got a little downtime.
L’s mom got in to PDX late that night – unexpectedly, since we anticipated her arriving on Sunday morning – so we slept three adults to the queen size bed, with Ansel joining us in the early morning. No one slept well, and I woke up with a head cold. The highway to Mt Hood for the Polar Express was closed, so we took the tiny rental roller skate on the slushy back mountain roads to the train. Ansel slept only briefly before we had to resort to youtube again.
The train ride, though, was magical! He loved the train! He loved the hot cocoa and cookie! He loved Santa! He loved his Oma! He also licked the seat of the train which, in retrospect, was probably the worst thing that could have happened. For the three hours we were on the train, it was magical!
Monday was uneventful, for which I am grateful.
Tuesday morning, A woke up around 6 and I went in to get him. I noticed his sleepsack felt wet but I thought he might have peed through his diaper and I know from experience it’s best to just let it be until after he’r nursed since changing him before he’s fully awake leads to meltdown. I nursed him in the chair for a bit, then he sat up and barfed all over me . . .once, twice, three times. I woke L up and we looked in the crib – more barf. I changed, we changed him, he wanted to nurse more – so I let him. And he barfed again.
Things would basically continue like this for the next two and a half days. Ansel would want to nurse, or maybe drink a tiny bit of water, barf and then collapse in exhaustion and either sleep or zone out until the cycle began again. On Tuesday, L and her mom were on duty; Wednesday I took the day off to try and shake my own cold which had now moved into my chest and took on the barf catcher role. We called the doctor on Wednesday after we found blood in his vomit the night before. They reassured us that this was likely due to small tears from the intensity of vomiting and to keep an eye on dehydration. He would sometimes be able to keep some pedialyte or breast milk down and we’d feel hopeful, but an hour or so later, he’d be back to the barf.
Finally, on Thursday we decided to take him in. I had to teach, so L brought him to the doc. They told her he was definitely showing signs of dehydration and recommended trying to give him tylenol suppositories to get him feeling enough better to keep something down. I thought he needed something more significant, and we ended up deciding together to take him to the ER at the Children’s Hospital. They gave him Zofr.an which made an incredible impact – he nursed a bunch once I was able to get away and meet them and drank some water – and kept it down. They sent us home with some additional to give him over the next few days, and some additional reassurance that it was likely a very bad stomach bug and not appendicitis or something else surgical. Once home, he nursed more, drank more water and even ate some food! We gave him some additional zo.fran last night when he woke up screaming, and he went back to sleep easily after some rocking.
This morning it was clear he was on the way back to health. He nursed at wake up, then leapt off my lap to play with the trains he hadn’t touched in three days. When I left for work, he’d managed to spill a cup of coffee and create a toy-naydo in the living room. So, it’s safe to say he’s feeling better -although still a bit on the low energy side of things.
I am very grateful that this is the first big barfing illness he’s had. Grateful for insurance so good we don’t even second guess taking him to the ED when we think he needs it. Grateful for the distraction from whether tiny is becoming an embryo. But also, fuuuuuuck this week. Also, if someone could come lysol our whole house that would be awesome.