yes, alanis, it is ironic

So, long story short - in my desperate maneuvers to avoid this...

I ended up with this...

(Sorry for the weird picture, it's as good as I could get from my bed with my cell phone.)

Here's what I learned. You can't go for months in a mildly dehydrated state while you are pregnant without ending up with some consequences.

I entered this pregnancy armed with a lot of information about Hyperemesis Gravidarum, unwilling to have the same unknown, awful experience I had with Calvin. I learned a lot of things. One of the things I was most interested in was how to avoid IV hydration, because I absolutely hate IV's. It's not a subtle dislike, it's a full on bitter hatred. I can't stand the thought of a little tube being inserted in my arm, left there to drip "lactated ringers" into me. Ewww! Anyway, I figured out that if I stayed just hydrated enough to continue having some "output" and used sugared beverages just enough to avoid ketosis, the doctor would leave me alone and not try to insert said tubey things into my arm. I thought I was free and clear - it was a struggle to keep up enough fluid intake to do this, but during Cal's pregnancy, I did acquire a vomit-holding superpower, so I made it happen. I thought I had tricked HG and scored a point or two in the game.

Well, I wasn't even aware of this other game that HG was playing with me until it scored it's own points. I am now in the hospital, being treated for a severe kidney infection with antibiotics and hydration - both via IV. It turns out that if you don't have enough intake to properly flush out your system, a lot of yukky stuff builds up and ends up taking over. The final take over is quite painful, shows up unexpectedly and causes you to beg your mother to drive you to the emergency room immediately so that you can go get the previously dreaded IV full of pain medication.

Anyway, this has been another excellent reminder of my stubborn pursuit of reliance upon myself instead of God, as well as His faithfulness to pull me back to Him. You'd think I'd get the message, but it seems to be taking a while to learn. It has also been an excellent opportunity to enjoy the weirdness of hospital life.

Here is what I was brought for dinner tonight...

I thought a tuna sandwich was pretty safe, but I hadn't factored in the possibility of baby-food-tuna-paste as the filling. I am staying in the labor and delivery wing, so maybe it's to prepare you for the gross things you'll be feeding your baby someday? Not sure.

I was also surprised to find that my Pacific Northwest hospital brought me some midwest-y Cool Whip fruit salad...

Yum yum. Fortunately, I have had very kind visitors bring me snacks, so I'm not forced to put any of this in my mouth.

Okay, one last picture, mostly because I'm a little bored and I have internet access. Here's how they covered my IV site for a shower...

I like that I'm a biohazard! That sounds important or something.

Your prayers are appreciated. I get to go home tomorrow morning, I'm no longer miserable (which is a huge praise), and Hallie/Halle/Halley is doing great. Calvin is doing well as long as he doesn't come to visit - seeing Mama in a weird bed, hooked up to weird things while Dada and Maggie are still gone seems to be more than he can handle. I can't wait to get home, cuddle Cal and sleep in my own bed. Sean and Maggie return tomorrow night, and I am more eager to see them than ever!


um, not sure what to title this one

After enduring some whiny complaints from my mom and I, skh uploaded some pics today so that we could see the fun that he and Maggie are having in Ohio.

I didn't really expect his fun to be crowned like this.

Especially for a birthday party for a dog.

Here's a couple pics of Mags, just because I miss her.

Maggie wears this dress for about 98% of the time she's at Grandma's house. She *loves* it.

Maggie's crown for Mocha's birthday

skh didn't get any pictures of Midget and Mocha eating their cupcakes (Maggie told me they made them for the dogs too), but here's one of the crowned child enjoying hers.

Cupcakes for Mocha's birthday

mystery solved

The past few days when Cal would ask to go outside, it would be the start of an extended conversation along these lines...

Cal : "Me go out?!"

Grownup : "Yes, you can go out."

Cal : "Me feet flop flop?"

Grownup: "No, you don't need flip flops on."

(Repeat the last two lines about 50 times, and then add the grownup saying "Please stop asking that.")

Cal : "Me doggy feet?"

Grownup : "What?"

Cal : "Me doggy feet?"

Grownup : "Uh, doggy feet? We don't know what that means, just go outside."

Finally, we have an answer about the doggy feet. As my mom was having this discussion with Cal today, she had an epiphany! Doggy feet = Bare feet. Cal sleeps with quite the menagerie, including a doggy and a bear, and he has always seen the two as interchangeable. Anyway, we are glad to understand and he is glad to be understood.