Sane

A few days go (when I wasn't feeling my best), I did some research regarding the correlation between depression and bed rest. Obviously, the two go hand in hand for many women. One article summed up how I have felt in a couple of sentences: "[Women on bed rest] suddenly feel unproductive, vulnerable and dependent. If they have children already, often they are not able to participate in the care of their kids the way everyone is accustomed, and this may lead to frustration and tension if the family doesn't receive the proper help."

Well, thankfully, we have received the "proper help." Unfortunately, I have felt worthless as I have watched my mother-in-law, husband, and friends tend to Eliza's every need. I'm trying to let that go and accept help, but it is hard.

The past couple of days, I have felt more sane and definitely less depressed. I can honestly thank many of you for my progress. I have received so many kind messages and calls that I am truly overwhelmed with positivity.

My dear friend Becca has been an amazing support. She has shown up at our house with toys for Eliza, ice cream for Nathan, and sherbet push pops for me (I was craving them and they are food!). She also introduced me to a wonderful BBC series, entitled Sherlock. If you have Netflix, please go watch the first few episodes instantly. You won't regret it.

Health Debate

Nathan and I are still debating what to do regarding the NJ feeding tube.

On Tuesday, we spoke with two doctors and two nurses. 3 of the 4 recommended that I immediately call radiology and schedule another appointment for the tube to be inserted. However, I had a number of points I wanted to bring up before proceeding. None of them, except for Dr. Schemmer, seemed interested in listening to my concerns. I was told: "Just try it again. This time don't eat or drink anything for 48 hours" (instead of 24 hours). Not being allowed to even sip on water or Sprite for 48 hours seemed overwhelming. I am, of course, thirsty and hungry all of the time. The nausea prevents me from ever wanting food, but I do enjoy drinking what little I can keep down.

Dr. Schemmer, the perinatologst, suggested that I try to eat solid food and drink the next few days. He agreed that my body didn't react well to the tube and encouraged me to keep eating (even if I threw up). I appreciated him listening to my legitimate concerns. Of the list below, we shared the first four with him.

1) Inserting the tube requires exposure to radiation. Every time I have an x-ray, the chances of one of my children developing childhood leukemia increases 33% (1 in 3000 to 1 in 2000; then 1 in 2000 to 1 in 1400; etc). The nurses tried to downplay this by saying the radiation is very limited, but I can't help but worry.

2) I had the other tube for 24 hours before vomiting it up. I worry that the same thing will happen again and that the x-ray, procedure, pain will have been for nothing.

3) Obviously, I was traumatized by the insertion of the tube. It was not something I want to have done again, even if that seems extremely selfish. I just don't know if I can mentally handle it.

4) The tube rubs one's throat and nose raw. After only one day, my throat was so incredibly sore I could hardly swallow my own saliva. Apparently, the throat and nose roughen or callous eventually, causing the pain to be less intense. However, eating solid food is very difficult, although encouraged. The food pulls on the tube as it goes down the throat, causing immense discomfort.

5) The tube is always there, and I am connected to fluids 24 hours a day. Even while I sleep, I am receiving nutrients and water. I never get a break from being connected to my IV stand and bags. Psychologically speaking, this makes me feel completely disabled and as though I will never get better. On Monday, my first day in weeks without an IV line (or a feeding tube), I felt free. I didn't have to roll a stand to the bathroom with me in the middle of the night. I could walk outside for a moment, and I could finally sleep without a needle in my arm or tube down my throat.

After all of these points, I still have to face the fact that I am still constantly nauseated, throwing up, and losing weight. While physically exhausted, I am mentally feeling much better. Nathan and I are going to wait a few more days (perhaps until Monday) until we rule out another NJ tube. In the meantime, I am going to continue to eat what I can.

So Close to Two!

Eliza is 22 months old! The past few weeks, she has really started to talk. She repeats almost every word we say and can ask to go outside or for a cup of juice. Her new routine is to go on a morning walk with Cheryl and play at the park for an hour or so. She loves climbing anything, so the park is a perfect place for her to do what she loves. She also enjoys the slide and will sometimes tolerate the swing.

Eliza continues to be a picky eat, but will always eat string cheese and yogurt (tons and tons of yogurt). However, we successfully convinced her that some food is good (other than her staples). Proof that she enjoys cinnamon bread and chicken:

She is currently obsessed with letters and will go out of her way to investigate signs with she is out on her walks. She also enjoys counting and pointing to the various numbers on the front of people's houses. (Please ignore her dirty little face in the below picture).

She also is prone to take little detours on her walks. Case in point:

Our current struggle is maintaining Eliza's hair.

Oh, the curls. Her hair doesn't really get longer...it just gets more curly. When she is taking a bath, I am always surprised to see just how long her hair is! We've tried clips and various kinds of ouchless hair ties, but Eliza manages to pull them all out. Cutting her bangs won't really solve the problem, so I guess we will have to wait for her to decide hair clips are okay.

She also learned how to say "pray" and loves bowing her head and folding her arms randomly throughout the day. She's so smart and lovable. She is definitely still a daddy's girl as well.

Happy 22 months, Eliza! We think you're the cutest.

Happy!

Yes. It's true. Eliza watches Yo Gabba Gabba. And while it may be melting her mind, it's just about the only thing we can do to keep her occupied while I try to tend to Cecil, the house, cleaning, making food, and whatever else.

This is her watching the introduction.

Running Out of Options

Last night, I suddenly felt as though I was going to throw up. Because I was attached to the feeding tube and couldn't move, I frantically motioned for Nathan to get the designated throw-up bowl. And then I threw up the feeding tube. Half of it, to be exact.

8 inches formed a loop coming out of my mouth, and the rest of the tube remained down my throat. I started panicking and gagging because I couldn't breathe or talk. The tube was down one nostril, making breathing through my nose difficult, and the rest of the line was coming out of my mouth, obviously further impairing my ability to breathe. Nathan was great at calming me down, so I could catch my breath. He then began calling our list of doctors and Home Health Care nurses in an attempt to find out what we should do. The advice was to go to the emergency room, so the rest of the tube could be removed.

Nathan hurried off to pick up our friend Tina, who was nice enough to spend her night watching Eliza (instead of watching fireworks). As soon as he left, I began vomiting again, as the tubing was constantly gagging me. The rest of the tube came out. I couldn't believe it. The tube was put into my small intestine to prevent me from being able to throw it up. And then, the very first time I throw up- it's out.

We still went to the emergency room, where we were told a specialist would not be available until Tuesday to replace the tube. At this point, I don't know what to do. Thankfully, I still had my IV line in, so Nathan was able to give me fluids intravenously last night. Today though, the line went bad, so I now have no feeding tube or IV. I am going to do my best to eat and drink until we can be seen again, but I am worried what our options are. The insertion of the NJ tube required exposure to small amounts of radiation. It's not like I can go have a new tube inserted daily and the fact that the line lasted for only 24 hours is worrisome.

What do we do? I don't want to have another x-ray while pregnant. I don't want to endure the insertion again. And yet, that seems to be the only way I am going to get calories. The feeding tube offers 1600-1800 calories a day, while IV therapy only can provide 400 calories. We're praying for a miracle. Perhaps, I will be able to keep food and liquids down...because realistically speaking, we are really running out of options.

Meaning. . .

I'm usually the joker of the blog, but this one will be serious. . .er.

I'm an INFP, which means nothing to most people. But what it means to me is that everything means everything. Every little detail of every second of our life is full of meaning. Recently I've been trying to figure out what all the chaos in our lives is all about. What's it REALLY for? What are we supposed to learn from this?

I'm pretty sure the point isn't "Life sucks, then you die." But along with that, it doesn't even seem like we're just supposed to suffer just to suffer. So what are Celia and I supposed to learn from what we're going through? I have no clue. I can tell you a thought I had though.

It's the 4th of July weekend and people are celebrating. There are fairs with rides, candy, music, vendors, and entertainers. People are walking up and down the streets basking in all these delights. Celia is laying in a bed with a tube in her nose and one in her arm. Our house is a wreck and all I can do is take care of Cecil, then baby, then Cecil, and so on.

Other people are riding in hot air balloons, loading up their boats to go to the lake. As I saw a one of these trucks pass by, its passengers in tank-tops and sunglasses, I thought to myself "I wish all I had to worry about right now was boating."

The counter thought that came next was "All I can focus on right now is surviving." Then a stream of images came to mind and the overriding thought that the majority of all people in the world find themselves in that situation their entire lives. Why should I feel entitled to something different? Is it because I'm American and in America people have it good by default?

I'm afraid I do believe that to some point. It has been subconsciously ingrained in my mind that I deserve to have it good. All of the time. Even with all the teachings of the gospel about trials and opposition, you just never think it'll get really bad.  Now that it is, it's REALLY tough to put all of those teaching into action.

I guess the point is: gratitude. So cliche, I know. So trite and non-glamorous. But that's it.  And while it never makes you feel better to say "it could be so much worse," it is true. Cecil will get better, the twins will be born, and someday we'll all be able to go on a walk. And who knows, maybe we'll even get to go boating.

God bless America -- but at the times it (and I) feels less blessed, I'll be ok with that. Because there really is an overwhelming amount of things to be thankful for. You/I/We all have it so good.

Happy 4th of July everyone.

Relief

Finally, one of the longest days of our lives is almost over.

My mother-in-law left yesterday (my niece is getting baptized this weekend in Portland), and she is sorely missed. It really feels as though things have fallen apart in the last 24 hours. As soon as we woke up, it seemed as though this day was not going to go our way. The appointment for my nasojejunum tube insertion was scheduled for 9:20; but before we left, Eliza had to take her morning walk with Nathan. On the way home from the park, Nathan felt his neck pop and suddenly, he was unable to move his head without it causing immense pain. Unfortunately, the pain persisted and he is still hurting tonight. His neck is stiff, lifting anything (including Eliza) hurts tremendously, and he has to physically support his head if he has to lean over for any reason. I don't know what to do to help him other than assure him it's perfectly alright if our house is a disaster area and Eliza watches television for an inappropriate length of time.

Although he was in pain, Nathan managed to drive me to the hospital for the tube insertion. Radiology performs the procedure, as an x-ray must be performed during the process to make sure the tube is threaded through the stomach and into the small intestine. Not to sound dramatic, but I can honestly say the ordeal was one of the worst things I've ever physically experienced. I was awake without any medication as they injected gel into my nostrils and slid the ridiculously long tube down my nose and pushed it into the intestine. I had to constantly swallow the tubing as I continually gagged.  Nathan couldn't stay with me due to the radiation, and I was covered in three fifteen pound magnetic shields. I felt alone and trapped. I had to hold my hands beside my body and couldn't move throughout the procedure. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't swallow, and the choking sensation only added to the anxiety. So yeah, I feel traumatized! Can you tell?

This was followed by another visit to the infusion lab to have my blood drawn and new IV line inserted. Again, the nurse was unable to locate a good vein and poked my hand furiously as she attempted to thread the IV. After a few minutes, I nearly passed out (which landed me an Orange Fanta! Yummmm), and I gathered the courage to tell her: "Please just put it in the large vein at the bend of my arm. I don't care if I can't bend my arm at all. I just can't be poked again." She was more than happy to accomodate me.

And sadly, we had more appointments to figure out our insurance. It was just too much for one day! Nathan and I got home a little after 2:00 and both of us were exhausted. Allison was amazing enough to watch Eliza the entire time we were out, and our little girl definitely wanted to do fun things once we were home. Nathan managed to go on another walk (although he was still feeling awful) and then Eliza blessed us by taking a second nap, which hasn't happened in WEEKS.

Home Care came around 3:00 and delivered all of the goods, and then a nurse arrived to set up the pump and explain how to administer the fluids. Basically, the food solution is similar (in appearance) to baby formula or Ensure. The feeding tube will be on and pumping literally 24 hours a day. I have to slowly acclimate my body to this type of feeding, and the goal is to receive fluids 18-19 hours a day.

On a positive note (which I am trying to focus on today), today also had a few highlights:
- My cousin David called from NC to say he was thinking of me. It made my day. I miss my family.
- Becca and Katy came by AGAIN today just to sit and keep me company. I honestly believe only two hours of social interaction (i.e watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy) makes me feel more sane. They also came by yesterday and brought by cute little boy clothes. The first boy clothing we own!
- A lovely couple from our church brought by an amazing dinner (for Nathan). I managed to eat a couple of bites, but I am not accustomed to eating with the tube yet, so it was uncomfortable.

I keep trying to separate my mind from my body. Does that sound weird? I just try to focus on the future and how this is all temporary. When I dwell too much on how much I hurt or how hungry I am, I instantly start crying. All I can do is continue to pray and have faith things will get better. I know we're being prepared for something amazing, and I am very grateful for the opportunity to be pregnant again. So, enough complaining!

Thanks for all the love, everyone. I really do feel it. Please say extra prayers Nathan's neck feels better. Hopefully, we can make it to Tuesday without Cheryl :)

p.s. A special thanks to Caitlin and Tim for taking Eliza out yesterday. Thanks to them, Eliza actually did something fun and enjoyed herself at the splash park. Like I've said before, we really are blessed to have such great friends.