Hyperemesis Gravidarum: what NOT to say!

Irony of ironies, I have barely been able to post the myriad of things I have wanted to, including wrapping the editing of the post where I announce my pregnancy, because I have been too sick.

So, by the way, I'm pregnant.  Yay!

I have always said I was a princess, but man, Hyperemesis Gravidarum just wasn't the thing I wanted to check off in that box as proof.  Not only to Duchess Kate and I hypothetically bond over illness, but this same illness is the reason we publicly announce our pregnancies.  HA!

It is hard to talk about HG when you are actively in the throws of it.  Go figure, talking about puking is hard when that is all you can do.  So I'll not tell you much right now about how I am doing or what this journey has been for me personally, but I will.  Just when I am better.  Presently I am 14 weeks and the clouds are lifting enough that I find this post possible, a few weeks ago it simply wasn't.

This is part hormonal, nauseated, angry rant with a dash of begging and education thrown in for good measure.  And lots of GIFs because they make me happy.

In no particular order because anyone of these if grounds for me aiming at you when I get sick for the 100th time today ...

1. "Oh I had morning sickness too!"

Morning sickness is crummy, I make no bones about it.  But HG is not morning sickness, though by medical definition it is often referred to as "severe morning sickness."  Let me put it this way, if you can count the number of times a day you get/got ill this is NOT the thing to say to me.

2. "Have you tried crackers/ginger/Preggie Pops/Seabands/some-weird-wives-tale/etc.?"

If one more person suggests ginger in any form {typing paused because I actually had to gag and dry heave over this} ... in a word, yes.  Yes.  I have tried all of that.  Desperately. Repeatedly.

3. "Oh my gawd, this one time when I was pregnant I threw up in...."

Do not talk about up-chuck in any form.  Not only do I not care, because that requires energy I do not have, I also cannot take hearing it.  Its also pretty freaking weird but for some reason people seem compelled to tell me.  I have managed to christen every receptacle typical for catching illness and many never intended for acts so vile.  We can swap horror stories some other day, for now please just shhhh.

4. "Have you tried just forcing yourself to eat or drink?"

Seriously?  I am trying not to drop F-bombs here but this one is hard not to reply with a good ol' "eff you" too.  Scientific question: what would happen if you tried to spray a garden hose UP Niagara Falls?  Same dif here.

5.  "But doesn't taking medicine while your pregnant make you nervous?  What if your kid has like a third eye because of that?!"

You're asking the wrong questions.  What if my child is so malnourished that s/he doesn't make it?  What if I am so malnourished or dehydrated that I go into preterm labor or miscarry?  What if both my baby and I don't make it, because that happens with HG?  I hate taking medicine, but without them I wouldn't have gotten this far.  It scares me, but not taking them scares me a lot more.

6. "Oh I understand!  When I was pregnant I would hurl the second I even saw *insert food item here* much less smelled it!"

I am sure that was awful, and I say that without too much snark.  I had that in prior pregnancies and it sucked then.  But here's the thing, I don't vomit because of seeing or smelling food, though that is a sure fire way to make me sick. I am sick no matter what.  Sometimes I can't even talk because the act of opening my mouth and activating my vocal chords does it for me.  I cannot swallow my spit half the time.

7. "I gained 30 lbs when I was pregnant, you're lucky to be losing some!"

Or anything like this.  Anything that comments on my weight loss as though it is some kind of GIFT makes you an undisputed asshole.

8. "Well you haven't lost that much weight."

Seriously, if you were an asshole on #7 this makes it even worse.

If you are looking at me and thinking I haven't lost that much weight chances are you are seeing how puffy and bloated the medication I am taking has made me.  Or even better, and way more TMI but you -- special snowflake that you are -- deserve it: Maybe my tummy is so large because the medication that they have pumped me full of makes it utterly impossible to poop.  Yup.  I am so damned constipated that my entire GI track is as backed up as a LA free way at 5 PM on a weekday.  What I manage to get down may never come out again!  So my tummy IS huge and I AM maintaining weight temporarily, but its not a good thing either.

9. "Oh I bet you are so sick because you're having a boy/girl this time!"

I admit, I have always joked (as a mother of only boys) to my girl friends who have had girls and are uncomfy through their pregnancies that it has to be that they are having a girl causing their misery.  "After all," I tell them, "two women can never occupy a confined space in peace!" so they MUST be having a girl. I swear, I will never say this again.

I have been assured I am having a girl this go-round because of my pathetic state more times than I can count.  Wives tales and gut feelings aside, HG has no known cause, cure, or even a sure-fire treatment plan.  The gender of my child is not what is making me so ill, even if it winds up coincidentally matching your theory.

10.  "Bet this will be your last baby now, eh?"  

I admit, now is NOT the time for me to discuss ever being knocked up again.  But I find any questions like this rude and nauseating when I am not in my current state, why are you inquiring about this at all you nosy weirdo?

Because actually screaming would mean
I have to open my mouth ...

Between the sickness, and the resulting exhaustion and weakness I have experienced as a result, I have not been up to a whole lot.  Sitting up at the computer is actually a challenge.  So whether you found this because YOU are going through HG (hugs and sympathy!) or because a loved one is, hang in there.  My thoughts and prayers are with you.

this ain't our first rodeo

So I more than chronicled my failures and successes with Meatball's last birthday (here, here, and here).  It only seems fair I mention what went right and wrong with the Beans' second birthday, right?

Truth be told, I don't think it was anywhere near the same level of mess up.  In fact, it more or less worked out fine, but I also had my sights set substantially lower.  I only had a few things I really wanted to do and I focused on making those couple of this successful.  I wanted him to have a cute shirt that I made, like I did for his Uno themed first birthday, and I also wanted him to be able to actually EAT one of his birthday treats.  Around one Beans was completely incapable of consuming solids or anything like them, so it was a bit of a a bummer for me as I really had envisioned the whole smash cake deal.  But motherhood is all about rolling with the punches, and roll I shall, dammit.

So first off I needed a shirt.  To do that I need a theme.  I already had that, since Beans refuses to wear anything other than his favorite pair of camo cowboy boots (yes, Paul Bunyan bought them and I had little to do with it), there had to be some kind of boots/cowboy theme going on.  Then someone used a phrase I had heard a billion times before and BAM, it hit me ...

I made the shirt in Word, but some asshole at Microsoft decided to screw up Word Art and I couldn't reverse the image unless I reverted back to a compatible older version, which screwed up my cute fonts and colors.  So I had to redo it in Pagemaker, which I had to simultaneously learn while still swearing about the asshole at Microsoft.  After I got it all done I realized that I could have probably gone into my printer properties and just reversed it, but I didn't want to check.  By that point I was several hours in and totally felt that ignorance would be bliss unless I needed to do this again.  Just make the iron on, and move on I told myself.

I also made a back, because I thought it was stinking cute.

So the shirt was done.  Now for cake.  I could have spent a fortune on a top 8 allergy free cake, but at the time we were still consuming gluten (this has since changed and it is a post in itself) so I remembered my pumpkin muffins I had no real trouble making.  Duncan Hines' Classic Yellow Cake mix is free of the Bean's major allergens (dairy, egg and nuts) a fact I was both thrilled and a little alarmed by.

So I made a batch, but I needed to have a "topping" so they were less muffin and more cupcake.

I experimented, and very nearly lost teeth in the process.

I very nearly lost teeth with this sample bite

The spoon was stuck to the bowl.
You wanna eat that?

Not wanting to waste anymore cupcakes, I used the heel of
sandwich bread and found my mixtures were too watery (left)
or dangerously sticky still (right)

Sometimes simple really is better.  A combo of regular sugar, brown sugar, and cinnamon mixed together worked much better.

Then just dunk them in and press gently so the topping sticks.  

I nabbed the boot and hat toppers at Hobby Lobby for like $3.99 with a 40% off coupon.  They also had the bandanna cupcake holders, which I also grabbed because they were freaking adorable!!!  I had already baked the cupcakes, so I just stuck them in as decorations 

Final product was delicious, everyone loved them.  Most importantly, the Beans ate almost a whole one himself!  Seriously, I cried.

magic cubes

The call them "the terrible twos."

Need I say more?

Beans has discovered that he has a tremendous ability and even gift at driving people insane.

And by people, I mean me.

We really start melting down about 4:30ish each night.  Hungry, sleepy (especially since he is willfully missing his nap 50% of the time) , and just grouchy, makes for an unpleasant evening.

So I have started trying to come up with things I can do that throw him for a loop and knock the grumpies out of him before we hit the full tantrum, from which there is no return.

Brilliant brain child number one: Magic Cubes.

Because it is warming up this one works pretty well, Beans doesn't mind a cool bath at the start.  I think we will also do this in his little play pool, though I will have to make more of them so that they last a bit longer.

What are Magic Cubes?  They are ice cubes, with food coloring.  Cheap, simple, and effective?  Love it!

You can see the patient Beans waiting in the background here

I have also tested this on my kid a few times and can tell you that I have not yet turned him into a smurf, though I still worry every time the water gets all dark ...

Once they go in the water they immediately begin melting and releasing the magic.  Once Beans is older we will use this as more of a color lesson, now its just a fun mess.

Since I use all the colors it makes the water a dark teal when they are completely melt.  Just pull the plug, drain the tub, and we usually fill the tub and take a real bath at that point. 

I also let Beans play with the tray in the tub, which gets it clean.  Yay!

Neither my bathtub nor my child have been dyed in the process of making these or using them.  I will warn you that you need to be careful when making them, however.  You will smurf up your hands if you aren't careful.

Figures, if someone was going to get tattooed in the process it was bound to be me.

5 things to *never* say to a reflux mom

Beans, taking the pink goo like a champ!

The Beans, who never does anything halfsies, got sick last week and into this week.  Poor kiddo had horrible chest congestion, the stuffiest/runniest nose in the history of cute little button noses, and not one but two ear infections.

Thusly, I was reminded of the one and only perk I can think of for his earliest days of constant medication needs.

My nearly 2 year old takes drugs like a pro.  Okay, that sounds kinda bad, but it is actually really good.  Well, in context anyway.

Given that Beans had to take meds twice to three times a day from infancy onward he just presumes swallowing nasty goo is part of life.  No fight.  No crying.  No spitting.  No death shriek while writhing on the floor the way Meatball always did.

So I count that as one perk, and likely the only one I could come up with in a pinch.  That said, I don't think I would try to reassure any mama's of babies currently in the midst of GERD that one day they will be able to laugh over being able to dope their kid with ease as a result.  In fact, there are a lot of really stupid things that are said to mamas and dadas of refluxers with the intention of being helpful or soothing that wind up making them want to commit murder ... or aim the fire hose of baby puke their way on the next, inevitable, round.

Five things to NEVER say to a Reflux Mom:

1. Oh its just a little spit up!

Its. Just. A. Little. Spit. Up.  Oooooooh, is that all?  The endless screaming in pain, is that a figment of my imagination?  The refusal to eat OR the constant need to eat, is that also part of me being dramatic?  The contortions my baby puts himself in, the bruises his itty bitty toes give me as he tries to scale me getting away from the horrible burning?  How about the vomit that launches out of him and hits the opposite side of the room?  The constant burping and hiccuping that keeps him awake?  The possible need for surgery, expensive formulas, medication? Go ahead, tell me again how its just a little spit up.

2. Lots of babies have reflux!

Mm-kay.  This may well be true, I honestly don't know the numbers, but I do know that the "reflux" I am talking about isn't standard run of the mill she spits up after every meal kind.  Even if a million other babies are currently cry-puking with their exhausted helpless parents wanting to do anything to make it better right there with me, minimizing how hard this is hardly helps.

3. He/she will grow out of it!

Oh there is a light at the end of the tunnel ... but it can take years.  Even if it takes only a few months, ask yourself this: how much do you actually like sleep?  Ear drums in tact?  And again, it isn't just a baby crying and keeping you up -- your child is suffering.  Yes, I hope the timetable is a short one, but understand the road is a tough one.

4. Do you burp him/her after feeding?

Holy Similac Batman, you mean you are supposed to BURP the baby?!  WTF chapter of What to Expect When You're a Freaking MORON was that part in?!

5. Oh I always had to avoid *insert food here* when I was nursing my baby.

If you are nursing your refluxer, chances are between Google and your doctor you are down to eating saltines and water rations in the hope that it will help.  My elimination diet was exhaustive for my child, and while I happily avoided foods that I knew would make things worse for him it was still challenging as heck to be tired, physically drained, and then to have to watch every single thing that went into my mouth with microscopic intensity.

For formula feeders, this shit be pricey in some cases!  While some babies may drastically improve with the avoidance of certain ingredients or even brands, some need special formulas that one does not get at a regular grocery store.  And the smell?  *shudders*

Bottom line, if you decide to be patronizing, minimizing, or condescending to the parent of a infant/baby/toddler with reflux, you may get shanked with a medicine dropper in the eye.  

decaying poo, it's what's for dinner

I never claimed to be a good, or even mediocre, chief.

It was not part of the job requirements set forth in either my marriage vows or the Mommy Code.

This said, this whole blog be 'bout how exceptionally awesome I am in domestic disputes, but this ... ah this was for sure a cross-stitch-it-on-a-pillow moment.  Anyone know how to do that?  I'm not allowed sharp objects.

Scene:  My kitchen.  There are no less than four pans on the stove, three glass bowls (too hot to touch), a spatula covered with some strange green substance, a garbage can filled to the point of dangerous overflow because I am the only person in the house who knows how to empty it, and me.  In the center of the chaos.

Characters: Me and the Meatball.

And the line I want someone to cross stitch into a pillow for me (cuz I also don't know how to do that):

Oh em gee, mom! 

It smells like decaying poo, what on earth is for dinner?!

For the record, my mental playlist at the moment that just barely presided this line of greatness, this pearl of wisdom, from my oldest child probably sounded something like this:

Oh mother of gawd what on earth was I thinking!  

This smells worse than a six day old shit diaper found in the truck of your car.  Mid summer.

Ew, it is sticking to my fingers! Its like cooties, but smells like death.    

  There is no way on earth I will ever get even the dogs to consume this crap!  

What a waste of my time, and the smell will linger, like bad company, for days!

The "crap" in question was steamed and pureed kale.  Kale is a food that us non-meat eaters love, generally.  Me?  Not so much.  I think it has the consistency of leather, and the taste is difficult to describe   It juices fabulously, so I use it all the time in my liquid meals.  But, I was trying to make some for the Beans.  Food issues (a post in and of itself) have long plagued us, and ultimately I have an 18 month old who really has the diet of about a 6 to 8 month old with strict limitations thrown in on top of that.  Breast milk and food purees.  He cannot tolerate store ones for a variety of reasons (also a post in and of itself) so I am relegated to that task of pretending I know what I am doing in the kitchen for him.  Lord help the child.  Generally, it is pretty easy.  Today, not so much.

So after an hour of trying to steam, then boil it to the right degree of softness my house smelled like ass, my kitchen is a disaster, and my oldest is terrified that this is what is for his dinner.

While this is humorous, it also suggests that his faith in me is so low that he worries I will serve this ...

... for dinner someday.

I think fear is a healthy thing in children.

an ode to super glue

So when I left off with you, I had successfully made a "calming bottle" ... but it wasn't so calming for my youngest.  Go figure.  The child has defied all odds (spoken like a proud mama of a child who has faced medical adversity and a worn out mama who knows this little goofball can do anything to age me rapidly) so naturally he could handle a calming bottle un-calmly.


We were going out of town and I wanted good car toys, so I made a second one the same way I had with the first, but in blue with some different glitter so that the kids could each have one.  I figured the change in color may make interest last longer.


I was right.  Initially anyway.  


What I hadn't taken into consideration is that if your baby gets uber pissed off being in his car seat and throws one of the bottles out the door at you while at a gas station, and it falls from the ridiculous height of your husband's rather tall truck with all the pent up frustrated velocity a one year old can give it ... the cap of those pretty Norwegian bottles almost explodes.  However, in a true testimony to the sheer strength of super glue, the bottle stayed sealed.  However it now had these sharp horrible knife like pieces sticking off the lid, and was not good anymore.    

I may not be mother of the year material, but even I know that is not a good thing to hand the kiddo.


But being me, I couldn't throw it out.  I mean, really, look at all the glitter, glue and water in there man!  I can't just toss this much stuff!  So I decided to dismantle it, but again, I was thwarted by the awesomeness that is superglue.  That damn cap was not moving.  No matter, I busted out my surgical tools.

After like ten minutes of me swearing at it I had worn a small hole in a section and scored around the top.  I would have been there forever, but my husband took pity on my cheap stubborn ass and swooped in with a saw.

It still took a while, now I know why those Norwegian bottles are so expensive, suckers are dense!  We did get it torn open, and we got the contents mostly poured into a new Voss bottle.  What didn't make it in the bottle was sparkling all over my husband's hands, which he totally loved.  He was sparkly!

Then I used some Gorilla foam glue to fill the void inside the cap, making it less hallow and hopfully a bit more shatter resistant.  When it comes down to it though, really I have just learned I need to be careful about when and where the Beans plays with the bottles.  He was not unsupervised with it before, I watched the destruction take place with my eyes wide open, but he won't be holding them when the car doors are open in the very least.  

oooo so pretty

The Beans is a darling little monstrosity.  I mean it, people stop me all the time to tell me how beautiful he is -- most of them confusing his pretty long lashes rimming his startling blue eyes for those of a girl -- but he really has a true capacity for sheer evil brilliance.  I assure you.  Apart from the heinous bat shriek he has perfected to a degree I anticipate militarily contacting any day now, he can climb in or out of anything.  Nothing holds him safely, so much so that we actually made his bedroom door a Dutch door as opposed to dealing with the continual dismantling of a baby gate.  

I find that keeping him entertained is not only critical for his safety but also for my sanity.  So when I see anything on Pintercrack that appears to be entertaining and cheap/easy to do I am all over that.  Cue the adorably simple Time Out Jar or Calming Jar.  

from creative little daisy

Adorable, no?  I fell in love with the idea of a timer that was both entertaining and soothing.  As a kid I adored those goofy glitter wand things and would tip them back and forth watching the glitter swirl and fall ... heck, if I had one still I would do it.  This reminded me of those, so I wanted to make one.  For the baby, of course. *ahem*

But the thought of giving my child ... any child ... a glass jar ... uh, not a plan I was cool with.  

In my other obsessive wanderings on Pintercrack I had stumbled upon (and of course pinned) a homemade lava lamp (which I will do and post about another day).  Here they had used a Voss water bottle because of their nifty shape, so I figured that would be a totally awesome container to use.  

So I looked everywhere for those bottles, and when I finally found them I was floored that they nearly cost me $3.  FOR ONE!  Cuh-ray-zee.  Too in love with the idea to see reason, I bought the expensive Norwegian bottle of water anyway.  Side note: the water was tasty.  

supplies all ready to go

squish glitter glue into the bottle
... and this part takes a while

while sprinkling regular glitter into the bottle
do not drop the damn cap in there
*sigh*

lots of sparkle, and no glitter shaker cap anymore

add some water

begin mixing

and keep shaking

the glue will bubble, so I kept trying to get
the bubbles down so I could add more water

ooooo purdy

finished product
on a dirty table in my backyard

seriously, I could watch it for hours

So it was a simple craft, it was cheap all things considered even with the expensive bottle.  I will add that I super glued the cap on this bad boy.  Highly recommend that immensely critical step, or you might have a hellova mess on your hands, and floor, and furniture, and child.

In fact, it was so successful I made a second one.  It was/is blue.  It lived, then died and then lived again.


Ever so handily we have already problem solved what might happen if your monstrosity of a one year old outsmarts you and manages to make a plastic bottle a dangerous thing.  So not only can I tell you what could go wrong, but I can also tell you how to fix it.  


Tomorrow.  ;)