Conversations with Doctors and Rabbis

I have a friend who had IVF twins in the Fall of 2005 and is now pregnant with a "whoops" baby (very much wanted, just very much a suprise since she was told she had, at best, a snowball's chance in hell of conceiving spontaneously). She's a pediatrician and I call her often for advice with our foster son. She's a good friend who understands the frustration of infertility, having been there herself. She called me yesterday to apologize for a comment that she'd made that she perceived as possibly insensitive. I hadn't even remotely remembered her saying any such thing and when she told me what the remark was, I didn't think it insensitive at all. (She had said something about how this pregnancy was such a joy compared to her last because she got to be surprised by it and didn't have constant monitoring all the time... didn't bother me a bit at the time, nor does it bother me now).

I didn't tell her then that I am pregnant...she lives in my neighborhood, and I just really don't want people in my neighborhood knowing that I'm pregnant. And anyway, I was about to run off to a meeting with my rabbi and didn't have much time to mention it anyway.

Oh, right, I met with my rabbi yesterday. Reduction is definitely not an option I love, but I was relieved to hear that it is not an entirely closed issue either. IF there is a specific, significant medical concern about either me or the babies if I keep all three AND one of the fetbryos looks to be less viable than the others, reduction is possible. These are basically the only circumstances under which I really wanted to consider reduction anyway. It is otherwise out of the question, as I suspected. I feel relieved simply to have answers. I was feeling nervous, but good after the meeting and I think I can move forward with the next steps.

I was feeling pretty good in general, actually. Passover cleaning had been going well, I had the teeniest bit of energy (not much, but enough to stay awake), all good. And then WHAMMO! I started throwing up. And couldn't stop. And still couldn't stop. And when I wasn't throwing up I was in pain and praying to throw up. My husband, a pharmacist, wanted me to take some fenergan (I had some leftover from something or other), but I wasn't convinced I should take it. He asked me for my OB's number and I wouldn't give it to him, because that's ridiculous. Most pregnant women get nausea. Most of those throw up at some point or another. So he suggested I call A (my friend described above) and ask for her advice. "But I haven't told A I'm pregnant!" So my husband, darling angel that he is, gave me a choice: either I could call A, or he would look up my OB's number and call himself.

I called A. At work (she was on-call at the Pediatric ER she works at). I felt terribly about interrupting her actual work for something so trivial, but I called anyway.

"So, um, I wasn't exactly planning to tell you like this, but, um, so... I'm pregnant."
"Congratulations!" (I'm sure she was wondering why on earth I was calling her at work, which I never do, to tell her this news).
"With triplets."
"Ohmygosh! When did that happen?"
"uh, well, about, uh, you know, 8 weeks ago..."
"So you're throwing up all over the place now, right?"
"Well, I hadn't been until today and now I can't even see straight and S wants me to take fenergan, but I'm not sure if I can..."
"You can take 25mg every 4-6 hours. If that doesn't work, call your OB and get Zofran. Also, eat lots of cheerios and ricecakes throughout the day, it will help with the nausea. Don't let yourself get hungry or it will only be worse."
"Got it. I just didn't want to call my OB and say, 'Oh I'm nauseated' because EVERY pregnant woman gets nauseated."
"Don't be ridiculous. With triplets, you're expected to be hyper-emetic, and if your OB isn't sympathetic about that, change OBs. So when are you quitting your job?"

And all was solved. I took the fenergen, threw up fifteen minutes later, but then was able to hold a little food down and I fell asleep. I've been munching on animal crackers all day and sucking down water like it's going out of style, and I'm mostly okay.

Tomorrow I have an ultrasound at Shady Hell, probably my last there before I graduate. I'll be just about 8 weeks, which is still a LONG way away from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but I guess it is, at least, one small milestone that I can check off my list. Next week is the consult with the perinatologist (they'll do another ultrasound then, except I'll be able to keep my underwear on for that one!) and the week after that, I'll see my OB again (no ultrasound, in all likelihood, but that's okay). Then the fun begins. Or something.