Dehydration, Contractions, and Ample Fat Stores

Nanook takes his baby-incubating duties very seriously.

This past Tuesday, I was home alone for much of the day - trying to get a bunch of things done because we've got folks coming to stay with us for my baby shower. So I took the dogs for a long walk in the morning to tire them out so they'd be sleepy and I could work around them. I didn't intend to take them for as long a walk as I did, but when we got to the part of the walk where we could either turn left and go home, or turn right and do an extended hike through a different subdivision, Pooka turned and gave me his "pretty, pretty please with kibble on top" pathetic begging eyeballs and I was as putty in his paws.

So we walked for about an hour and a half. Throughout our walks I often get a few Braxton Hicks* contractions - I halt the dogs and we wait them out and when each one is done we continue walking. It has never been a big deal. Mostly, I ignore them. After the walk the dogs got a drink, I got the mail, we returned to the house, I fed the fish, did some laundry, pulled the sheets off the guest beds, started to pick up the kitchen, realized I needed to go grocery shopping, stopped by the Stately Homes By the Sea designer show house at Holly Hill to check on the landscaping and make sure none of the pots needed water, went to the grocery store, came home and finished cleaning the kitchen. I was in the process of getting dinner ready when I realized that the contractions that had started while I was walking the dogs, and which I had been ignoring all day since, hadn't stopped and were becoming a little difficult to ignore. I also felt dizzy, nauseous, and weird.

I thought. How much had I had to drink that day? I'd been so busy I hadn't really even thought about it. Crap. I'd only had a few glasses of fluids. Meanwhile Sandy, who had been in Vermont on an errand overnight, returned home to find me pale and strange on the couch. He started forcing fluids on me. I fretted that the contractions were getting stronger and impossible to ignore, so he said - "let's go upstairs, lie down, and we'll time them. Keep drinking water."

We did. On my left side, sucking down water like it was the antidote. I was having 60 second long contractions that were 2 minutes apart, although they were still, (I thought), Braxton Hicks contractions and not true labor contractions. All the same, I was a bit nervous. I knew that if you got dehydrated in pregnancy, it made your body believe that the levels of oxytocin naturally in your blood were spiking, which could induce labor prematurely. I drank two liters of water while we waited for the on call OB at my doctor's practice to call me back. Sandy kept timing the contractions while saying things like, "is there anything I can do for you? Do you want me to rub your back? Get you more water? Walk over hot coals?"**

The doctor called back and said we were doing everything right, to keep timing them for an hour or two and see if they reduced in strength or frequency, and to keep him posted. He said if it felt like they were increasing in frequency or strength to call him immediately. Of course, as soon as he hung up I had two or three contractions that were much stronger than all the others, and painful, and I broke out into a sweat and my hands started shaking. But I thought I'd wait it out and see what happened...and kept drinking water. 3 liters down. And those were the only contractions I had that felt painful. Phew.

At this point, Sandy (who was holding the iPhone we were timing the contractions on) was consistently passing out cold in between contractions. He'd sleep for 3 minutes, I'd wake him by saying, "Okay Sandy - here comes another one." He'd gabble, "Now?" and I'd say "yes" and then he'd hit the button on his phone to lap it. A minute later I'd say, "it's done. Sandy. SANDY. It's done!" and he'd wake up to hit the button again. Poor guy had driven 14 hours in the past 36 and had only slept for 3 the night before - he was exhausted. I kept apologizing and offering to take the phone and time them myself but he'd get very huffy and say, "I'm your partner! I'm here for you! I'll keep timing th....Zzzzzzzz..." He's a little adorable, you guys.

Two hours into timing the contractions, they were 4 minutes apart and still a minute long. I let the doctor know, but he said the fact that they were further apart was a good thing. It was 1 in the morning by now, and I was exhausted too. I said, "Do you think I can go to sleep?" and the doctor said, "If you can fall asleep, that's a great sign." So I hung up the phone, hugged my belly, said - "I don't know about you, but I'M going to bed and I really think you ought to also, it's been a busy day" - to Rhys and/or my uterus, and then I passed out cold. Of course, I'd drunk 4 liters of water by then and so I spent the vast majority of the remaining night getting up to use the bathroom, but I was so zonked I barely remember doing so.

When I woke up the next morning, I still felt sick. My tongue felt weird - almost like I'd somehow burned the back of it without burning the front. There was a horrible taste in my mouth, also. I got up and brushed my teeth, scraped my tongue, and used mouthwash, but nothing helped. "Weird," I thought. Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror. "Oh HOLY crap." I haven't measured yet, so I can't give you guys an accurate number here, but let's just say that my bust had increased. Significantly. Overnight. And by significantly, we're talking at least a doubling of their previous measurement. I stared in total shock.

Thanks to the Mayo Clinic and that woman who works for A Pea in the Pod, I've been wearing a supportive bra every minute of every day since I got pregnant, (except for in the shower, and don't think I haven't considered it), because according to the Mayo Clinic and that lady that works for A Pea in the Pod - if you DON'T wear a supportive bra, you will be able to keep your knees warm with your breasts, STANDING UP, by the time you finish breast feeding. Eeek. So I was able to fairly easily determine that yes - my cups runneth'd over. It wasn't just my perception. However, when Sandy came staggering into the bathroom a little while later, I pointed out the new attributes and demanded to know if I was seeing things. Poor man. He was still exhausted and sleep-logged and completely unprepared for his wife to shriek, "HAVE YOU SEEN MY BOOBS?!?! THEY'RE INSANE!" at him.

I took the dogs out, and got their breakfast ready, then prepared my own. I sat down, took a bite, and nearly spit it out again. What the hell? It tasted hideous. I mean, it was Kashi fiber twig death cereal, so of COURSE it tasted hideous - but this time it REALLY tasted bad. I stared at the cereal dubiously. Sandy appeared. I asked him to try the cereal. He said it tasted perfectly normal. Awesome. It's me. I thought perhaps it was just that I wasn't feeling well. I choked down the nasty stuff and went about my day. At lunch - same thing. Worse, if possible. I glared at the food that was now personally offending me, and then consulted Dr. Google.

Sure enough - weird taste in mouth = perfectly normal pregnancy symptom. FOR THE FIRST TRIMESTER. Caused by a spike in estrogen production, evidently. As is breast growth. So that explains that, anyway. Though why the heck would I be having it now, 6 weeks before I was supposed to give birth? I had to think that both symptoms were part of the previous evening's excitement - maybe the rise in oxytocin had triggered some kind of hormone mass-production that was now throwing my entire body into confusion and madness and giant boobs.

I endured lunch, although what I ate was minimal. And dinner. And breakfast the next day. And then I called my OB/GYN's practice to see if they had any suggestions. The midwife that returned my call said, "yes, it's perfectly normal. And it doesn't mean anything for the pregnancy so don't worry about that..." which was good because someone on Facebook had authoritatively announced that it meant I would be going into labor asap. She continued with, "Some people find that eating bland foods helps - others try to cut through the weird taste with acidic foods or vinegary foods." I commented that indeed, bland foods had been okay - toast went down almost normally, but that I'd tried pickles and acid fruit and they'd been a disaster. Then she said, "how much weight have you gained this pregnancy?"

Doom.

"I started off at 124 lbs." I replied. "My last weigh in was this week, and I weighed 162. So...38 lbs." She said, "Whoah."

Doom again.

"Well," she continued, "your weight gain has certainly been ample.*** So you don't need to worry that if you aren't able to eat normally, it will affect anything. You'll be fine even if you can't eat much for the rest of this trimester."

"So what you're saying is, Rhys and I can live off my fat stores, no problem?" I asked. I wanted to be sure that she was really as hateful as she was sounding.

"Yes," she replied. "You have plenty of those."

Check. Hateful midwife. Implying that I am some sort of hibernating pregnant bear. Hope head falls off or her face gets put on porcupine or similar.

"Ah." I said.

"In fact," she continued, "If your appetite is suppressed because of the horrible taste in your mouth, perhaps you should just say thanks."

"Yes," I said. "I should be grateful..."

After a few more pleasantries we got off the phone, and I took to facebook and the private message thread that I shared with my three pregnant sorority sisters. I told them the whole pathetic story - how I was subsisting on dry toast etc, and all the dreadful things that bloody midwife had said, and ending with, "and so now, you guys, I'm going to kill and eat that midwife. Because I will bet you anything that SHE'S bland." They made all the appropriate noises of commiseration and one of them, bless her heart, added: "Do it. Kill and eat the midwife. Put her on your toast!!! We won't tell." Thus endearing herself to me forever.

p.s. I won't really kill and eat the midwife. No matter how hormonal I get. Sometimes one needs to threaten to become a cannibal to relieve one's feelings though.

*For those of you unfamiliar with Braxton Hicks contractions - they are like warm up contractions that get your uterus toned and in shape prior to actual labor. They start pretty early on in the pregnancy but you don't usually feel them until late in the second trimester or early in the third. Some women don't feel them at all. I TOTALLY feel them. It's a squeezing sensation which actually feels very similar to the baby pushing with his back, only on both sides. If you take a deep breath while it's going on, it feels like you're breathing against a rope tied around your middle. But mostly, I notice the way it shoves Rhys' head down onto my bladder. Instant incontinence worry!

**I have no idea why he thought that last option would be helpful...

***This word has now been outlawed from use in this house forever and ever into perpetuity, amen.