For the next week I spent my days in the recliner in front of the television in a feeble attempt to distract myself from the ever present nausea. I would continue taking the Phenergan most of the time, but sometimes I would skip doses because I was very frustrated that it seemed to do nothing at all for my sickness. I wondered what the point was and felt guilty for taking medication while I was pregnant, particularly medicine that seemed to be useless anyway.
I tried my best to intake at least something into my body every day even though I did not feel like doing so at all, I forced myself out of concern for my baby. I remember calling up my dad one of those days and asking him to bring home the one and only thing that sounded even remotely palatable- a cherry creamslush from Sonic. Oh yes, that's right. The only thing that my brain was telling me I might be able to handle was total junk food loaded with red food coloring. Awesome. But I hardly cared at this point because I knew that surely getting even junk food down and having it stay down would be better than getting nothing in me at all. It was a bad call- it came up anyway.
I remember the same thing happening with a bowl of cereal on another day, and my dad having to clean it out of the bathroom sink. I didn't make it to the toilet, and honestly, I had gotten pretty tired of hanging my head in a toilet bowl by now so sometimes I just went for the sink because it felt a little less horrible. Since I was eating almost nothing, the majority of the time I would throw up it was pure yellow bile that burned terribly, so usually there was no mess to clean up even if I did throw up in the sink instead. On another occasion, I felt the need to vomit so suddenly that I couldn't even get myself out of the recliner in time and my parents handed me a bowl to throw up in. I had never been this sick in my life.
On July 26th, while still with my parents, I made a visit to an OB that I had used for my yearly exams while I was a teenager. I couldn't take the nausea and vomiting anymore and I was becoming more concerned for myself by the day. My scariest symptom at this point and one of the primary reasons I went to the doctor that day was the condition of my urine. It had not only become darker and more pungent than I even thought was possible, but I truly think it had actually become thicker as well and I knew that something was very wrong with me for it to be like that. They took some blood as well as a urine sample (which I could barely produce) and then I sat with my mom in one of the exam rooms.
When the doctor came in, she told me that she wanted me to go to the ER next door right away to get some IV fluids and she went out of her way to track down an ultrasound machine so she could do a quick scan to check on the baby. Baby looked fine, and even though I was extremely scared at this point, it was so wonderful to be able to see my baby. This was actually the first time I had ever seen the baby because I wasn't able to view the previous ultrasound I'd had for the bleeding until I went back home from my parents' house. The baby was facing forward, not sideways like you usually see in ultrasounds, and I thought it looked like the cutest gummy bear I'd ever seen in my life. I wished I could have had pictures to take with me but the printer on the machine she was using wasn't working that day. This is when I had an emotional breakdown, right in that exam room. I remember the doctor handing me a tissue. I was on the phone with my husband at one point telling him what was going on, and doing a lot of crying both on and off the phone. It made me feel a little better to finally get it some of the fear and worry I had inside of me out with those tears.
I went straight to the ER where I was given two bags of fluids, and they checked my urine again once or twice. I remember being really disappointed that they were only giving me two bags of the IV fluids. I just felt like I needed so much more help than that. At the very least, more than two bags. Having that thought was pretty major for me because I absolutely hate needles having anything to do with my body. I hated the sensation of the catheter that had been run through my vein and the cold fluid running through me making my left arm feel like it was freezing and causing me to cover myself, and particularly my arm, in blankets.
But two bags it was, and after that I was sent home. I think this the day when I was prescribed Zofran (some of the details on things are fuzzy if it's something I didn't write down), I assume because someone finally saw that the Phenergan was doing absolutely nothing for me and I was sicker than ever. Zofran is an anti-nausea medication normally reserved for cancer patients and post-surgery use. I started taking it immediately and I didn't notice a huge difference in the nausea and vomiting at all. I kept taking it as prescribed though because I felt like I had to try do something to help myself and this was all I had.
At the end of my husband's two weeks away, my parent's drove me the 8 hours back home. I made an appointment for August 2nd, the first available date, to see the OB that had prescribed me the Phenergan so that I could update him on all that had happened while I had been staying with my parents. I also wanted to talk about any other potential treatment options because I was basically panicking now. I saw what this was doing to my own body and I was having terrible thoughts about what it could do to the baby.
The day of the appointment, I had driven myself there because I felt like I didn't have much of a choice since my husband was at work. Even the simple act of getting ready to go and driving there (around 10 minutes) really pushed my body too far. I remember being very sick in the waiting room and sucking on some candy, trying not to throw up in public. When I got to talk to the OB and caught him up on all that had been going on, he listened to my concerns and seemed to feel badly for me, but he acted as if I wasn't sick enough to require any further treatment. When I inquired about what further treatment options were even available, he didn't really offer any suggestions. I liked this OB on a personal level, and I had originally chosen him because of the recommendation of many friends, but now I was doubting that decision. I knew that he leaned more on the "natural" side and that was something I was originally looking for in an OB, but now that I was so sick and needed serious medical intervention, he was just not the doctor I needed during this pregnancy and I knew it then. He very kindly personally called me three days after that appointment, just to check on me and see how things were going. I have no hard feelings for him at all, it just turned out that he wasn't a good match for the type of care I needed during this difficult pregnancy and that is fine. If I ever had a "regular" pregnancy, he would be my go-to OB.
I ended up switching providers right after that appointment, and started going to a practice with four OBs. I was 11 and a half weeks along on August 10th when I went to my first appointment with the new practice and they performed an ultrasound. It was my third of the pregnancy. When I first found out I was pregnant, I knew I wanted minimal ultrasounds, possibly even only one. That as well as so many of my other desires for my pregnancy had been thrown out the window along with my health.
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