The Itch

I had finally gotten to a point in my pregnancy when I could see the end looming large. I felt good, if tired and swollen. I knew that was normal, though. I was really starting to get excited for Mr. X's arrival, and felt like I had everything ready.

I had had some hiccups in my pregnancy -- raging heartburn, carpal tunnel in my right arm, and a gestational diabetes scare. The gestational diabetes diagnosis came as I was on the road with my husband, at 7 months pregnant, on our way to our last vacation, just the two of us. The doctor's office called at 4:30 p.m. on a Friday afternoon with the bad news. I sweated it the entire weekend -- not knowing what to eat, how to tell if I was in trouble. We managed a wonderful weekend in Asheville, NC, in spite of it. Come to find out on Monday morning, the nurse who called me made the wrong call -- one of the glucose readings from the three hour test was slightly elevated, but the obstetrician said that I was okay. What a relief!

So, here I was, three weeks out from my due date. I felt good. I was happy, excited, filled with anticipation. Would I know when the contractions started? What if my water broke while I was at work? Would we make it to the hospital in time? How long would it take, the labor, once it got started? Would I really be able to stick to my birth plan? Would I fall in love with Mr. X immediately?

Then, on August 1, the red bumps started to form. Itchy, tiny red bumps on my belly. At around the same time, my husband and I had discovered that somehow our home had a flea infestation. Gross! We attacked the fleas with everything we could throw at them, ultimately fumigating the house. That seemed to take care of the problem, except for the itchy red bumps that seemed now to be spreading.

The itching became unbearable. The bumps spread down to my thighs, my knees, my ankles. They started to appear on my breasts and on my arms and wrists. Something was wrong. I called the doctor's office, and they had me come in almost immediately.

The diagnosis: PUPPPs, or Pruritic Urticarial Papules and Plaques of Pregnancy. What? What is that? The answer is that nobody knows for sure why PUPPPs happens, but that it is usually in the last weeks of pregnancy. It's more prevalent in women who are carrying their first child, more common for women expecting boys. It is also more common among Latinas and Jamaicans, according to the midwife who examined me, stating that she was of Puerto Rican heritage.

The cure? Labor and delivery.

The light at the end of the tunnel suddenly shrank to a pinpoint. I began my maternity leave immediately, since at this point, I couldn't stop scratching myself, and my forearms were red and raw with the rash. On top of all of the questions from the people who came into my place of work about when I was due, whether I was having twins, unsolicited descriptions of gory childbirth, I now had a horrible rash and basically wanted to tear my skin off. I couldn't do my job anymore. The midwife wrote me a prescription for bed rest, and I just stopped going to work.

At home, I searched and searched the Internet for tips on how to ameliorate the itching, even if just for a few moments each day. I tried Grandpa's Pine Tar Soap, which stunk to high heaven. I used Benadryl cream, which didn't come in remotely large enough quantities, but seemed to work for a little while. I slathered myself with Sarna lotion, which stopped the itching only for as long as it also chilled me to the bone. I sat in the tub in a cool oatmeal bath for hours each day and sobbed.

I begged Mr. X to come early. I pleaded and cried and knew I was going to lose my mind if he didn't just GET BORN ALREADY!

As a last-ditch effort, I had my mother-in-law, who was staying with us at the time, bring in the V-8 Juice. I had read online that some women who suffered through PUPPPs swore by it, and I figured that if it didn't stop the itching, at least I'd be getting my vegetables. I drank a can as soon as she brought it home. I drank another later that day. I continued with two cans a day, oatmeal baths, Sarna. Anything to relieve the painful itching.

After maybe four days of V-8, the rash began to dry up. To go away. Could it be possible? Or was that just the first round of bumps running their course? Was another onslaught threatening?

We held our breaths. I prayed. I hoped.

It never came back.

Highly unusual, was the consensus among the midwives and obstetricians at the practice. Really, very out of the ordinary. Usually birth is the only cure. And even then, the rash sometimes lingers, or even gets worse for a few days or weeks after the baby's arrival. They were sure it would come back. I was terrified that it would, but it never did.

I had one week, free of itching and scratching. One week, staying home from work, no responsibilities. One week to myself, to calm and center my thoughts. To focus on what was now imminent: Mr. X's arrival. I was ready.