|35 week bump!|
This photo is from last week, we haven't taken the 36 week pic yet. As you can see, I'm getting rounder! (And my hair is getting longer.) We've reached the point now where people no longer tapdance around the obvious, they just cut to the chase and ask when I'm due or if we're having a boy or a girl. No denying it now!
I have definitely not kept up the blog like I thought I was going to, and I'm a little disappointed about that. It's been a rough 10 or so weeks. Shortly after my last post, I failed my glucose tolerance test and was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. I wasn't happy about that, but honestly, it didn't surprise me. We have a strong family history of diabetes (including the gestational kind), and I was overweight to start with, so I knew there was a pretty good chance I'd end up with it, but it's never news you really want to hear. I went to a class put on by the hospital and was told how many carbs to eat throughout the day, and was given a glucose meter and told to check my sugar 4 times a day. "Alright. Not the easiest thing in the world, but I can handle this. My baby is worth it," I thought.
A week later, I went back for a checkup to see how I was doing, and was immediately put on an oral medication because my fasting sugars weren't responding well. That was hard news. I felt so betrayed by my own body. I was doing everything I was told to do, and now this. I cried a little in the office, and I cried a little when I got home, but I managed to take things in stride. The next week, I went back again, and they increased my dosage of medication because things still weren't where they wanted them. This time I argued. There were a few times I forgot to take my pill, there were a few times I didn't get my walk in like I had planned, several things that I knew I could do a better job at (and besides, I was still new at carb-counting). I asked for one more week to give my best effort and then recheck. Absolutely not, they said. I cried again. (I'm sure at this point they thought I was a crazy person.)
That visit was also rough because the midwife I saw was very blunt and glass-half-empty about all of the things that could potentially happen now that I was an "unstable diabetic." (I'm not sure if she was referring to my sugar or to my mental health at that point.) She said if I had to go on insulin, I would have to transfer to OB care. I would likely need to be induced up to a month early. I would have a huge baby and could be a diabetic for the rest of my life, I would need to go to the hospital for weekly non-stress tests....and on and on. This might have contributed to the meltdown I had. In her defense, I was squeezed in at the end of a very busy day for her, and I'm sure she was just trying to get me all the info and move on. Perhaps she could have done a better job of delivering that info.
I went home and cried again. I thought about everything she said. And I got really mad. There was no way someone was taking my baby before she was ready for no good reason, which we would know because I'm going to be tested every freaking week. They keep a close eye on my blood pressure and weight, as well as her size. She had explained that the medication used to control my blood sugar can cause premature aging of the placenta in some people, which increases the risk of stillbirth in some women, therefore they don't want me to go past my due date. I did some research of my own, and went in the next visit ready to throw down (or change providers) if I didn't get better answers to my questions. Luckily, the next midwife I saw was much more compassionate and less rushed. She explained that as long as everything looks good, they have no problem with me going to my due date. Yes, she admitted, their official recommendation is that I not go beyond my due date even if we both look healthy because of the stillbirth risk, but ultimately it's my body and my baby, and no one can force me to be induced. I calmed down after hearing that. And didn't find a new doctor.
So that is a big part of the reason I haven't done a great job keeping you all informed. I think initially, it was a combination of being so overwhelmed with all of this, and maybe thinking if I didn't say it out loud (or at least to the interwebz), maybe I didn't really happen. I've been counting my carbs, walking like a fool, poking my finger, taking my pills, and doing a lot of praying for me and my Peanut. (Feel free to join me in any of those activities!) I'll post again soon, I promise, with the positive updates that have happened in the past weeks. I just needed to get this less-fun part of my story documented for myself more than anything. It's therapeutic to have to articulate some of those feelings that I've tried to ignore for a while. Thanks for your patience!