Seriously, if a girl can't whine on her own blog, where CAN she whine?
I am 6 months pregnant. I currently weigh 8 lbs less than when I first got pregnant. This diet miracle is thanks to my gall bladder which seems to strongly object to pretty much anything I eat.
I don't eat so much these days. When I asked the ob if this was a problem for the baby and what should I do to make sure she gets what she needs, I was told, "Eh. At this point she's far enough along that you can think of her as a parasite. She's getting everything she needs from your body. You may end up malnourished, but she'll be fine."
This was not as comforting as I suspect the doctor was going for.
The lovely surgeon said that he really really didn't want to take out my gall bladder until after I deliver because A) they'd have to open me up with a big ol' gash in my side and B) any surgery carries with it the risk of pre-term labor. Which at 25 weeks would be bad. He really doesn't want to touch me now, though, because I'm past 25 weeks and my gall bladder is now working it way up my rib cage.
In the mean time, I can eat teeny tiny meals with no more than 5 grams of fat per every three hours or so. If I eat more, I get sick. If I eat meat, I get sick. If I eat cheese or butter, I get sick. I've essentially become a vegan. Which I don't really have a problem with, except I really love cheese and butter. And eggs. I like them, too.
And then even if I don't get sick and have an outright attack, I still am passing stones every now and then because according to the surgeon, my gall bladder is chock full of them. And do they give the pregnant lady some nice pain killers to deal with the passage of each stone? No. No they do not. No painkillers for me.
Now, I have delivered three very large babies with no drugs. Happily. I'm good with that. It's pain that has a purpose and an end and works out just fine for me. (No judgement for anyone who does it differently, this is just how I roll.) As far as I'm concerned, the pain of passing a gall stone serves no purpose, so I don't want to feel it. It's not like I can do anything to change it...well, except not breathe, but that's sort of a problem, too. And yet, I have four more months of this kind of excitement. More exciting because the surgeon pretty much expects to see me back in the ER before I deliver. I'm not allowed to get dehydrated, so as soon as I start throwing up, I have to head over and get fluids, again so I don't have pre-term labor.
My poor family has to live with this, too. Last night I made dinner put it on the table and then spent the rest of the time running to the sink to dry-heave and then come back for dinner conversation. Really, I would like to just go to bed. For the next four months or so. I'm tired. The whole not eating so much thing doesn't help my energy level at all. Oh, well.
Blah. Again, I realize that things could be so much worse and I shouldn't complain. But I'm sort of all done with the stiff upper lip thing this morning and just want to whine.
All better now.