Shocked.

January 20, 2010. I said to Ann, "This headache is awful. I think I'm pregnant." We laughed. No, that was something beyond the realms of possibility. Ok, so I was over a week late. But, the stress I had been going through was causing my period to be a little haywire. That was it. Pregnancy? Not again!

January 21, 2010. I woke up, head still pounding. Then it happened. I threw up. So I did it. The longest 2 minutes of my life... waiting to see if my pee caused the stick to say pregnant, or not pregnant. I nearly fell over when I read what it said... "Pregnant." Clear Blue easy, you can be wrong, right? So I did another 2 minute wait... and no. It said it again... "Pregnant."

I was in Georgia. I was panicked, to say the least. I called Brandon. No answer. I paced. And paced some more. I started shaking. Panic attack, lovely. I reached to take a happy pill... but no, you're pregnant, Mel... no happy pill... not until you talk to the doctor. The phone was ringing. Brandon. "I'm pregnant." "Whhhhhat? How? You're on birth control." "I don't know how! I don't know.... muffled sounds of me crying..." Brandon: "It'll be okay. Every baby is a blessing. Everything happens for a reason... Have you told anyone yet?" "No, I wanted you to know first, since you know, you had a major part in this!" Brandon: "Oh God, I think I'm going to have a heart attack... Why don't you tell your mom so that she can calm you down. And call Dr. Landeen." "Ok... I will. I will... Yeah, Ok, I'll do that. I love you. Tell me this is going to be alright." "It's going to be alright. I love you."

I call the doctor. The nurse, amazed, shocked... at a loss for words. "Ok, Melissa, let's call in the perscriptions to get you feeling better already, and hope that you don't have the same problems as last time."

I go down stairs. I'm pacing. Nervous. Watching my phone. Trying to be "normal." My mom says "There's something you want to say." "I"m pregnant." Followed by tears.

Fast forward a week and a half. I'm back in South Dakota. And I start having major cramps, followed by a lot of heavy bleeding. An ultrasound is ordered. The "baby" is still a yolk. No news. It's implanted. We have to wait. I'm ordered blood tests for my HCG levels. They come back, increasing like they should. Fast forward a few days later... the nausea, vomiting, and headaches set in... at full strength. ER visit #1. Hospitalization #1. I'm not keeping anything down. I'm put on a calorie count. I'm eating about 250 calories, keeping zero. Fluids are pushed. Pain management drugs are tried. No relief. The first bright lining in what seemed like a cloud of darkness, was on the fifth day in the hospital. An ultrasound was ordered... and there he or she was... a little tadpole, with a tiny heartbeat... living. After five days, I'm sent home... still miserable, trying to be optimistic... there was a baby, this would be worth it.

Worth it? That's what I said, right? A few days after I get home, the bleeding starts again... this time heavier. I call my OB office, crying. I'm immediately fit in the schedule for an emergency ultrasound. There that little "blessing" is... heartrate, increased, size: bigger. Blood, noticeable on the ultrasound, but not causing any harm to the baby, just looking for a way out of my body. Another ultrasound is scheduled for a few days later, just to make sure things are still going in the right direction. I make that appointment... and there he or she is... heartrate, even more. Noticeable difference in the way he or she looks... measurable, due date is set: October 1, 2010. The day after my birthday. Ok, I'm optimistic. It's again all worth it...

I finally have an appointment with Dr. Landeen. My OB was out of town this entire time, and is finally back. I have another ultrasound... "little sweetie" (as Dr. Landeen calls my babies) is doing great. Growing more, heartrate is terrific. Mommy, not so much. We decide to try a PICC line. This way I can give myself fluids and drugs, and hopefully not have to keep being admitted into the hospital. 

February 18, 2010... PICC line inserted, Hubby almost passes out. Brandon has many tattoos. He gives blood, donates plasma, and has seen both of his children brought into the world. But, as I'm behind a drape as the nurse is inserting the PICC line, I see his face turn white, and see him start to stumble... I can't wait to tell baby #3 about the day Daddy almost passed out! After the line is place, again I'm optimistic...

... Until a few days later, when again, I can't keep anything down, and the pain is so excrutiating, I feel that I want to die. ER visit #2. Hospitalization #2. I'm there 2 days. Fluids. Drugs. Sent home. No relief again. Feeling helpless. Feeling hopeless.

This entire time, my darling daughters have been with my inlaws. I finally see them, and Maggie is almost crawling. The joy I get from seeing them, is that they remember me, want me to hold them, and get possessive when I'm holding one or the other... I must be a good mom, if they want me that much.

Monday night was a bad night. I ended up back in the ER, and am told that there is nothing they can do for me. I'm sent home, bawling... screaming at Brandon because I'm so distraught from the pain... from the fact that nothing is staying down... and most of all, because I can't be a good mom to my girls. I cry most of the night... and I am sad to say, prayed to God for a miscarriage.

I called my OB yesterday, still bawling, angry, wanting to know if I should find somewhere else to go. "Come in at 10:45 so that we can discuss this." I go. "Oh, Melissa, Dr. Landeen has a meeting, can you come back at 4:15?" I'm a little miffed... but agree. I needed to get my PICC line looked at, and Brandon wouldn't be there to pick me up for another half hour... I head to the Out Patient Care Center because my PICC line is bleeding heavily. The amazing nurses in the OCC can tell that I'm sick, and ask what's going on. I break down, crying, telling them the experience, in the first ten weeks, has been more than I can handle. I explain how I've been treated by the nursing staff on HIROB and L&D... the comments that have been made about how a 10 on the pain scale feels like your arm is being cut off. (No offense, I've never had my arm cut off, so I wouldn't know how that feels... I DO however, know that labor was excruitiating pain and my headache feels like contractions in my head!) I tell of how one nurse accused me of trying to get high. How the nurses roll their eyes when they see me, sigh, and make comments like "Don't you know what causes babies?"

The nurses call the hospital staff in charge of clearing up matters of insufficient care. I tell my story. I'm not in any way trying to get anyone in trouble, but at the point I was yesterday, I'm feeling hopeless, and wanting my pregnancy to end. They understand. They get nurses together to tell me they'd address the issue, and apologize. I get a few bags of fluid while I'm in the OCC... throw up everything in my system, and go home to wait for my 4:15 appointment. FINALLY, time to talk to Dr. Landeen. While waiting, I continue throwing up... her nurse apologizes for having to delay my appointment and make me wait. (And gives me a gift card to Walmart as an apology.) She enters... and I start crying, again. But, you know, even with all the puking I was doing, I was feeling emotionally better.

Next step: a consultation with headache specialists in Minneapolis. And a consultation with a counselor to get some of my ill feelings out in the open. It will get better, even if it's just a little bit. I will be able to be a parent to Samantha & Maggie while being pregnant. I just need to take the time to get better, and find solutions on how to do so. My little girls are on their way to Georgia right now. My inlaws had to go to a funeral in Atlanta, and my amazing parents said they'd watch the girls as long as needed. (Thanks, Mom & Dad!!!!)

I'm pregnant. There's nothing I can do. In 25+ weeks, a new blessing will be here... and this will all be a distant memory. It'll be worth it... I must keep telling myself that...

Melissa