Shim Bean

No, that’s not a typo. It’s my lil pet name for Baby. I despise the term “it” and since I don’t know if he is a him or she is a she… shim. Bean comes from all the baby books that tell me “baby is the size of a jelly bean. Now the size of a kidney bean…”

Shim and I went to the Endocrinologist this morning. My A1c was up a little from the last time which didn’t surprise me. I’d given up hope at one point and figured why am I trying SO HARD? (I know, it’s good from my health… and depression is a bitch.)

I think I mentioned in an earlier post that my blood sugars were higher than I wanted and I didn’t really understand why. I’m really careful about what I’m eating, almost to the point of being too scared to eat. I heard the best reason ever. Hormones. The HCG level doubles every two days and the body becomes even more resistant to insulin.

We adjusted the insulin and decided I needed to be “boring”… I’ll give it a shot!

Same thing for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Same cereal and milk. Sandwich for lunch. Etc. The fewer variables the better. At least until week 7, then the resistance drops and the sugars lower by themselves.

Weeks 7-14 are the most crucial, as in the highest chance of miscarriage because of blood sugars.

It’s time to be militant.

And to remember, no one hits the goals all of the time.

Shey said, “If they say they’re hitting their target numbers all of the time, they’re either lying or not diabetic.”

Land of Bland? Here I come.

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“Welcome to High-Risk”

I’m going to start with a spoiler: Everything is fine.

Now, for the story.

Friday I had been having some light cramping. Saturday it was a little more intense and a little more consistent. I’ve been checking my blood sugars six times a day. Before meals and an hour afterward. My numbers started to get higher, 198. I’m not supposed to go above 140.

Tayla and I went to my mother in laws just to hang out and chat. On the way home, I just had this nagging feeling that I should go in. It’s 8:00 pm. On a Saturday night. Urgent Care is closed and I’m sure the ER is filling up with drunks.

“I’ll be fine,” I told myself.

For whatever reason, I pulled into the parking lot of the Burnsville ER.

At check-in, there is a sheet of paper for you to fill out the reason you want to be seen. I wasn’t sure I actually NEEDED to be seen, maybe I just wanted a nurse to tell me it was ok. Of course, they won’t do that without you being seen.

Sigh. Better to err on the side of caution, right?

The nurse reads my card “pregnant with cramping and high blood sugar”.

“How far along?” She asks

“8 weeks” I replied.

She notices Tayla. Her eyes get a little wider and her head shifts from me to her and back to me.

“You?” she asked nervously.

I was so stunned for a minute like we’re both so far out of the age range for optimal pregnancy that for either one of us it would be a “tragedy”. Que eye roll.

She takes me back to triage right away and a room shortly thereafter.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she says.

Needless to say, the wait is longer than short.

Finally, she comes in, apologizing and telling me she “forgot” about me.

WHAT?!?!?!?!?

Lie to me woman! Tell me you were holding a patient as he died or attending to someone who came in via ambulance with several Chinese throwing stars sticking out of their chest? Then maybe I’d be ok with it and let it go… who am I kidding? I let it slide anyway.

So, right to the fun stuff. Urine sample. Blood draw. Ultrasound.

It didn’t actually take all that long and The Hunger Games was on. So we watched the second half of that and the first half of Catching Fire.

When it came time for the ultrasound, I have to admit, I was excited. Baby’s heart starts to beat around 6 weeks and you can see and hear it around 8 weeks.

She moved the sensor thing across my belly and dug in. She moved it around, stopping occasionally, hitting buttons on the computer to take pictures and then decided it was too early to see anything using the wand thing. She needed to use the probe thing. Ugh.

I thought there was pressure before! Holy shit. Ow! It actually hurt. Then she added towels under my butt which made it soooo much better…. right.

Then she decided, no, the first view with the regular wand was better. Grrr.

“Do you see it?” I asked.

“I see something but it’s not an 8-week fetus. We’d see a heartbeat, arms and legs… I’m not seeing that.”

I stifled the urge to say “well maybe you just suck at your job”.

It turns out, there were two “sacs”. NOT TWINS. One in the womb and one near an ovary. It’s more of a cystic type thing. She couldn’t determine which sac was the pregnancy so she couldn’t rule out that the egg may have implanted somewhere other than the uterus.

I have to believe though, that if there are two sacs and ONE is in the right spot… that’s baby.

On top of that, the initial doctor I talked to on Friday was wrong about the conception date and I’m only 4 weeks, 6 days. The ultrasound and the Hcg hormone level support this.

Since my blood pressure was ok and my sugars (by that point) were within normal range, they suggested I follow up with my primary care provider for further blood testing until my numbers reach 2,000. Currently, they are 563 and double every two days. At the 2,000 mark, they want to do another ultrasound.

Oddly enough, my cramps went away without any treatment and I started to wonder if it was psychosomatic and needing to overcome my doubt that this pregnancy is actually even happening.

So, my plan of trying not to worry so much didn’t really pan out…  But, I’m not as freaked out and the cramps are still gone (and there has been zero bleeding), so I guess I’ll follow the ER doc’s suggestion, call my doctor in the morning and go from there.

I do feel a certain peace though. Everything is fine, it’ll all work out. That’s probably thanks to all the praying I’ve been doing and the prayers I know other’s have been saying for us.

Thank you.

 

Heaven’s Reward Fallacy

Yesterday I blogged about being pregnant. I was excited and nervous, hoping I wouldn’t “jinx” it by doing so.

I’ve had about 48 hours to sit with this new news. This wonderful, miraculous, terrifying news.

I mentioned that I was aware of the health risks and I am… today it just seems overwhelming.

I’m 40 years old. I’m overweight. I’m diabetic. I have high blood pressure. Low back pain. History of miscarriage…

I’m trying so hard to not let these thoughts scare the shit out of me.

It’s not working too well.

I haven’t had my arthritis medication for over a month and now my knees are swollen. I have looked into natural anti-inflammatory foods and will stock up.

I’m trying to make peace with being ok with whatever the outcome of this pregnancy is.

This is where “Heaven’s Reward Fallacy” comes in. Heaven’s Reward is the belief that in this case, we are taught to believe that input is equal to output. We sacrifice and give our all. We put everything and everyone before ourselves. We give out so much good karma that good things must come back to us.

If I eat right, sleep enough, take all my meds, exercise, do everything right… I will have a healthy baby.

I plan on doing all of these things… and I know that I cannot count on right actions absolutely leading to right results.

This pregnancy was planned and in a very real way, a surprise. I had made peace with the fact that Tayla was going to be my only child. I would work in the hospital’s NICU. I would wait (anxiously) to become an aunt … or a grandma (not too anxiously).

I guess I’m saying that whatever happens, I know I’ll be ok. I just need to reassure myself because this full day of worrying… I don’t want to do this again.

Twisted 2018

What a year 33 days make!

Actually, the past 9 days have really been a trip…

On Wednesday the 24th, I saw an OB/GYN about my fertility. She ordered a blood test to check my “egg reserve”. When it came back, I was devastated.

She knew the number would be low because of my age… but this was incredibly low. A number in the low range is a .5, my number was .070.

The doctor told me it was highly unlikely I’d be able to conceive naturally, if at all. I needed to think about how far I wanted to take this baby thing. Did I want to try IVF? It’s expensive and it might not work. I could look into finding a surrogate… I told her if I couldn’t do it myself, then it must not be meant to be.

I was so depressed over the weekend. I cried a lot. I was angry. And then, I decided to do something different. I called the hospital to look into volunteering at the NICU. There is a program for babies that are addicted to drugs and need cradling and rocking to soothe them while they go through withdrawals. The volunteer told me all about it, I filled out and sent in my application and told myself I’d be alright.

Thursday morning comes and I’m cleaning the bathroom. Under the sink is the last pregnancy test. I think about tossing it but decided “why not pee on it first?”. A few minutes later…

IMG_6551

?????????????????????????????????

I felt my depression lift for a minute before I realized it was probably wrong. It sat too long under the sink. The ph balance is off. God is playing a cruel joke on me…

I call my doctor’s office anyway.

I had an appointment this morning and I got this:

IMG_6556

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The only thing more shocking was my estimated due date: September 11th, Natalie’s birthday.

I’m thrilled. Terrified. Cautiously optimistic… and 8 weeks along.

I know that I am high risk, so much so, the high-risk OB doesn’t feel comfortable treating me… so on Thursday, I’m going to meet my team on perinatologists.

I have informed all of my medical specialists and mental health providers.

Now, I’m just going to TRY to relax and worry about anything and everything that could happen in the coming months.

😉