Gestational Diabetes

Got the call Saturday to confirm from my doctor that I DO NOT have gestational diabetes (duh).  After three days of separate blood draws after 8 hours fasts, my glucose levels came back as follows:  74, 75, 75.  The normal range is between 70 and 100.  YEAH!  Not even close to the problem zone.

The nurses working in the lab told me how lucky I was that my doctor allowed me to check for GD this way.  Many of the doctors will make you take the one hour test again, or at minimum the three hour test.  NO THANKS.  I know what my body can handle, and I think my doctor realized this, seeing as this was the second pregnancy with the same reaction to the Glucola drink of death.  What I wish I had known in the past is that you can pretty much turn down any test that they want you to take.  It is your body.  Your baby.  If you don’t want to know if there are any birth defects, etc, that is your right.  It obviously would not change the fact that some would still proceed with the pregnancy.

Someone just asked me my due date at work.  I told them April 2.   The lady replied with, “So that means you could really go as early as March 2 if this pregnancy is similar to Kenzie’s, right?”    YIKES.  So yes, it could be less than two months before we have two children under two in our house.  What the fuck were we thinking?

To make things even more fun and exciting, we are going to start potty training our 20 month old.  Because what sounds like more fun than that while 7 months pregnant? I just cannot fathom having two in diapers.   What’s worse is that my husband doesn’t get it.  I think he believes that if we talk to her enough about it, she will just walk over to her little princess potty and pop a squat.  Uh, no.

I explained to him that starting this weekend, she would be walking around without pants or a diaper on.  His response:  I already had to potty train Rory (our dog) like that, I’m not doing that with a human.  We have to be 100% on board with this training method.  Realistically, we should do it when we have a 3 or 4 day weekend.  The good thing is that our babysitter will be on board whenever we are ready to start, so we will have that support too.

I already told him I would be cleaning up the messes out of the potty training potty because it grosses him out.  It’s funny, because he loves cleaning so much.  But when it comes to that stuff, no thanks.  He once accidentally dropped his razor into the toilet, because our cabinet is directly above the toilet (way to plan that).  He wouldn’t get it!  He made me do it.  There was nothing in the toilet, either – just clean water (I know, there are still germs in there, but grow up, man!)   If I wasn’t home, he would have fished it out with a hanger or something, and then thrown everything away (it was a brand new razor – he is insane).

And one more win for momma:  I got my husband to buy a recliner/ rocker.  A crucial component to new motherhood if you are breastfeeding.  I wish I had known ahead of time how important it would have been.  I thought I was doing us a favor and saving us some money.  In the long run, my posture and back suffered BIG TIME.  It’s hard to nurse a tiny little human when you are sitting on a bed or a deep sectional couch.  I felt like the hunchback of Notre Dame after a few months.  And NO, the Boppy did not help me at all.  Maybe my torso is too long/ too short?  Maybe my arms or shoulders weren’t strong enough for feeding on demand CONSTANTLY?  I really don’t know what it was, but I do know that a rocker/ recliner would have solved a lot of my issues with baby #1.  Looking forward to sitting on the rocker and watching Everybody Loves Raymond reruns in the middle of the night with baby #2.  I might even be able to fall asleep in that fancy chair!

 

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Glucose Test – FAIL (2017 Edition)

Happy New Year!  Ready for my resolution?

(1)  Do not get pregnant again.  Ever.

I know what you are thinking.  She’s being dramatic.  Or the ever popular: How dare she hate on pregnancy – doesn’t she know there are many women who can’t have babies on their own?

Judge me all you want.

And now for my final day of 2016, and how I went out with a bang…

I scheduled my glucose test appointment for 7 a.m. on NYE.  I figured, who else would want to voluntarily get blood work done on NYE?   I will be in and out.  And that should have been the case.

In case you want to read about my glucose test with my first pregnancy, because who doesn’t want a good laugh, you can view that here:  Glucose Test – Pregnancy #1

After my last glucose experience, I did a lot of research as to why my body reacted the way it did.  My own not-a-doctor conclusion:  I’m at the opposite spectrum as gestational diabetes.  No one in my family has a history of diabetes.  My last baby did not weigh over 9 lbs.  I did not have substantial weight gain during pregnancy #1, and started this pregnancy off at my pre-pregnancy weight (big thank you to breastfeeding, because there is no time for “exercising” in my house).   So really, no reason to think that this pregnancy is going to be any different, other than the fact that I hope this baby stays put until at least week 37.

So I woke up bright and early that morning, and my husband even woke up to make me eggs.  I had already cleared this with my doctor.  She said eggs, plain greek yogurt, whole wheat toast, would all be good things to have in my stomach prior to drinking the death cola.  Protein.  Just not a bowl of Fruity Pebbles or Count Chocula, to my dismay.

I ate the eggs and a little bit of yogurt.  Then, a familiar feeling of nausea came over me.  “NOT TODAY!  NOT NOW!” was all I could think.  And before I knew it, I had thrown everything up.

It was about 10 minutes before I had to leave for the diagnostic center.  My nerves were setting in.  I grabbed the rest of the yogurt and an english muffin with peanut butter and headed out the door, thinking “if I can stomach just a little of this during my drive, I will be okay during the test”….onward.

I walked in, signed in, and they promptly called me back to drink the death cola.  I had explained to the woman what had happened before, just in case the same thing were to happen.  She was very nice about it and told the secretaries up front so that they could keep an eye on me, just in case.

Side note:  You get 5 minutes to drink the death cola.  I have never been a “chugger” so to speak.  As I’m sipping on the drink, the phlebotomist is just standing there watching me.  So I asked, “Uh, I have five minutes, right?”  And she responded with, “Yes, but I like to tell people to just chug it to get it out of the way”….NO PRESSURE.  What the hell.  Can’t I just sip this nastiness in peace for the five minutes I get?  I don’t think it helped my situation by chugging it.

So I was escorted back to the waiting room, where there were probably three other people waiting.  One of the nice secretaries came up to me and introduced herself.  She said to let her know if I started feeling dizzy or weak.  She also asked me to move so that she could have a better view of me from her seat, so that was nice.   But this also forced me to move to the section where the other people were sitting.  If I was going to pass out or puke, I would prefer to do that in private, thank you.

I brought a book with me this time, “Something Borrowed” – which I love.  I figured it would keep my attention and make me worry less.  So I popped that open and continuously read and reread the first two pages.  What was wrong with me?  So I put the book down and just started looking around the room.  I tried to get comfortable by sitting back a little and letting my arms just lay instead of trying to prop myself up.  I figured any extra form of burning energy would be bad news.

Approximately 20 minutes after I chugged the death cola, I started to feel it – exactly like the last time.  I started to sweat, shake, get dizzy, feel weak…ALL AT THE SAME TIME.  I quickly got the secretary’s attention.  She called the phlebotomist and then proceeded to bring a garbage can over to me.  The phlebotomist appeared seconds later with a wheelchair.  I thought I could hold off on the puking.  WRONG.  Puked my guts out in the waiting room.  And the most embarrassing part.  I managed to piss my own pants.   Every time I heaved, GUSH.  I was soaked by the time everything was out of my system.  Luckily, I was wearing dark jeans, so you couldn’t tell at all.   (PS:  This peeing while vomiting was NOT a thing during my first pregnancy – I assume it is part of the aftermath of pushing a kid out of your body – I also pee when I sneeze now too – RIDICULOUS).  So a big FUCK YOU to 2016.  It was just not my year.

After that, they wouldn’t let me drive myself home.  I was like, “GREAT, now I can call my husband who will have to wake up our daughter (girlfriend gets angry when she is woken up as opposed to waking up on her own), and then proceed to tell him that I need a change of pants because I peed myself in front of a few strangers – what a fantastic way to end 2016″….

Husband was great about it, though.  He even thought to bring me a new pair of underwear, even though I didn’t ask for them.  He bundled little chicky up and arrived about 20 minutes later with my change of clothes.  He didn’t make me feel like a loser, so that was nice.

After he picked me up, we went through the Panera drive thru (that’s how you could tell I really felt like crap – I didn’t want ANYTHING) and got Kenzie a parfait and a few bagels for the next morning.  I went to sleep as soon as I got home, and slept for a good 4 hours.  I got up, ate a little something, and then it was time for Kenzie’s nap.  I napped with her, for another 3 hours.  SO WONDERFUL.  My body clearly needed it.

Interesting website about healthy alternatives to the glucose test and what is in death cola (if your doctor allows, I guess):  Glucose Testing

Moral of the story:  We are only having two kids.  And if I ever start to forget why I said that, I will have this lovely blog to look back on as to why two kids will be our max.  And if I still have baby fever after this one for some reason, I’d like to use the wise words of my late grandma:  “Feel free to push me in front of the 342 PACE bus”

UPDATE:  I had my doctor’s appointment yesterday.  She said that she didn’t want to put me through the 3 hour glucose test, since my body clearly wasn’t handling it well and that she has such high doubts that I fall into the gestational diabetes category.  To satisfy the pediatrician of future baby, I do have to go to have my blood drawn on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of next week, after fasting for 8 hours (no death cola).  This will just confirm that my levels are where they should be and that we have nothing to worry about.  I’ll take it and consider it a victory that I will never have to take the glucose test again (hopefully).

I also was lucky enough to get my RhoGAM shot yesterday because of my blood type being rh negative.  In the butt.  I will get another one immediately after delivery.  Yayyyy.

Now we are onto our check ups every two weeks.  Yayyyy.  Home stretch?  Nahhh.

 

20 more weeks of hell

Alright.  I give up.  I had a good run for a few weeks.  I had to practically run another employee our of restroom.

Now, for the second time in a week, I am getting sick mid-day.  At 20 weeks pregnant.  With an 18 month old to take care of.  And a full-time job to work.

I don’t even need to look at the ultrasound picture that my dear husband has been hiding from me.  I know it’s another girl.  Won’t need to focus on boy names.  Great.  Time saved.  And if anyone else asks me, “Well what if you don’t get your boy this time, aren’t you going to try again?”…STRAIGHT TO THE MOON.

I’m not really into rooting for one gender over the other, as long as the kid is healthy and not having to spend time in the NICU.  So the answer is NO, I don’t really give a shit if our last name moves on for another generation.  If we can raise two competent (or semi competent human beings), I consider that a success.

Going for a third, in my opinion, would be like tempting fate for us.  Mike already blames me for giving him Shingles last year.  *for the record, I did not give him Shingles, though he believes that I am the reason that caused them because I am so difficult and cause him so much stress in life (in the midst of trying to take care of a colicky newborn and trying to recover from a little thing called childbirth).  I should have made labor and delivery look much more difficult, but I can tolerate pain and managed it well.  Too well.  So next time, I’m putting on much more of a show.

Long story short, a third kid would both put us in the poor house, and likely set up impending divorce because I would be able to get even less housework done than I do now (which isn’t that much, truth be told).  Call me a negative nancy, but I value my relationship with my husband.  I know there are couples out there who can/ want to do it, and maybe that will in turn make their relationship stronger.  We are not that couple.  We still want to travel (with and without kids), and we want to be able to retire at a decent age and not have to worry about kids still living with us.  And I need to get myself a more challenging job.  This job is perfect for when the kiddos are tiny humans, but once they are in full day school, I’m out.  Call me selfish, but I would expect my kids to do the same thing.  Some women are made to be stay at home moms – and more power to you.  Some women have to work to keep their sanity.  I am one of those women.

Thanks for listening to me bitch.  Fingers crossed for a better evening and few days/ weeks ahead.

PS:  I’m already listening to Christmas music and LOVING it.   It works when I’m trying to drown out the terrible music and voices of certain co-workers.

PPS:  I asked my doctor if I would be required to take the shitty glucose test again with this child since I clearly am not at risk for gestational diabetes, per my last test and pregnancy.  She said yes, absolutely.  COOL.  So I asked her if I could eat a little something beforehand this time, because I’m not really into passing out.  To my surprise, she told me yes!  But she said to keep it to things without sugar.  So, eggs, whole grain toast…things like that would be good.  Totally doing that this time.  SCREW THE GLUCOSE TEST.  DAMN THE MAN.

29 weeks, 3 days – Bébé is Size of a Hawaiian Pineapple- Glucose Test – Breastfeeding Frenzy

So, pineapples are pretty huge, right?!  And so am I.  Still two long months to go.  Meh. For some strange reason, I feel really good today.  I know, I probably just jinxed it.  {oh and I did!  I started this draft on monday, and now it is tuesday.  let me just tell you.  tuesday fucking blows. Wednesday also sucks. pregnancy is going to be the death of me}  It’s amazing how you can have a good day, followed by a day where you can’t even get out the door because you feel like you’re going to pass out.  I can only hope that the good days will outweigh the bad in these last two months.

Now for the good news!  I had a doctor’s appointment last Monday.  Now I get to go every two weeks, since we are in the third trimester.  If it gets me out of work early, I am on board.

Turns out, I actually PASSED my glucose test!!   The phlebotomist, while very kind, was incorrect in reading her numbers.  I was thrilled beyond belief!  So no three-hour test for me!   She even told me that my iron levels were fine.  Although they were a bit low, that is completely normal.  She said if anything, I would go on iron supplements AFTER baby girl is born.

I then went on to ask her my list of questions, including “What are my delivery options, if any?”  “Will you be here when I deliver if you aren’t on schedule for that day?”  Because I had heard from a few different friends that there is a pretty good chance that your doctor won’t even be there for delivery if she isn’t on call that day.  I hate the idea of that, but I didn’t want to be caught by surprise “Father of the Bride II” style when some 16 year old comes in wanting to deliver my baby girl.

I was hoping she would tell me that my pelvis is too small, and that she would feel best scheduling a c-section.  I hear of so many doctors wanting to schedule deliveries, just for convenience.  I always thought I would be so against that, but now that I am scared out of my mind, I have decided that I would be okay with any kind of scheduling and even a c-section, which is done so often.  No sitting in labor for 36 hours, waiting on dilation, possible drugs wearing off…  But her answer surprised me.  She said our obvious hope is for a vaginal delivery.  FUCK.  So basically no planning, could go into labor at any time, and it could end up that my pelvis is INDEED too small for baby girl to get through, but that will be determined after I’ve been in labor for awhile and it has stalled.  THEN they could move forward with a c-section.  ISN’T THAT GREAT?!   And if my labor doesn’t progress as quickly as they’d like and I am not dilating fast enough, then they will give me Pitocin to strengthen labor, which I have also heard horror stories about.  Basically, I am terrified.  And on top of all that, I feel as though my body is in no shape to go through 36 hours of labor.  I can barely walk up a flight of stairs without getting lightheaded.  And I know that I should be trying to “train” for this, but my body just can’t take it.   So at the end of delivery, I will just collapse and sleep for a month.  Right?  Right.

At what I thought was the end of my appointment, my doctor said, “Okay!  So now you’ll get your RH status shot and you’ll be good to go!”  I responded with, “Like, today?”   Oh yes.  I was getting a shot.  NOT IN THE ARM, EITHER.  Not all women need them, as it turns out.  Of course, I am in the percentage that would require such a thing.  Turns out, if your blood type is negative (I have A negative blood), there is a chance that baby’s blood could be positive.  There is no way to know for sure unless we did amniocentesis (giant needle in the stomach = no fucking way).  This is fine with baby number one, but if we were to go on and have baby number two and baby ended up having a positive blood type, my blood would try to fight it off, thus possibly resulting in a miscarriage.  So they give you the shot at 28 weeks, and then again after you deliver.  Then I will be covered and they won’t try to attack baby 2’s blood.   Let’s not even discuss if there will be a baby number 2.  Save that for another day….

I also asked her about breastfeeding, and the possibility of renting an automatic pump from the hospital.  She was very clear that I should wait on all of that, since you never really know if breastfeeding is going to work out with you and your baby.  That being said, one of my new-mom friends invited me to join this “Breastfeed Chicago” Facebook group, where you can talk about your struggles of breastfeeding and such.  I was very appreciative of this, since I intend to breastfeed, if it works out.

Joining this group ahead of time was a bad idea for two reasons.

(1)  “I think my breasts are engorged!  See pics in the comments!”   I understand that this is a forum for mums who are trying to breastfeed, and things aren’t always cheery and happy.  But I have seen far too many of these “My nipples are cracked and bleeding!” posts/ photos.  It is enough to deter me from breastfeeding altogether!  Again, I’m sure there are plenty of mums out there who don’t post anything because everything is working out just as it should.  I’m just saying, it would be nice to see a “everything is going so well and I’m not in pain at all” post!   A little encouragement never hurt.

(2)  These ladies fucking HATE formula.  If someone posts something even remotely in favor of formula feeding, if only for a supplement and needing some advice on how to wean, numerous mums will go off on her in the comments saying things like, “breast is best!  don’t do it!”  making you feel like a loser and a bad mom if you would even consider formula feeding.  I don’t like that.  You never know how things are going to work out, and if formula is the only thing your baby will drink, then formula is what you will nourish them with!  COME ON!  They also think you should never wean your baby off the breast.  Breastfeed until your kid is 5 years old, if that is what they want!  Yeah, because THAT’S not creepy.

That’s all for now – stay tuned for upcoming posts on my back/ rib pain and possibly going to a chiropractor (thoughts?!), a baklava recipe that is out of this world, and my thoughts on essential oils that have taken the nation by storm 🙂

Glucose Test FAIL.

I figured I would be better off typing this out while everything is still fresh in my mind.

First off, today started out good.  I woke up right at my alarm, at 6 a.m. which reminds me how I could never work another job requiring me to wake up before the sun rises…but in this case, I was ready to go.  My appointment was scheduled for 7 a.m.   I showered, got dressed, and took my anti-nausea medicine with some water, per my doctor’s instructions.  I was also told to fast for 10 hours before the test.  Not easy for me since I eat little things ALL THE TIME.  But, I managed.

Driving along…driving along…I told Mike he didn’t need to go with me to this test.  I brought some work-related items with me to go through while I waited.  No traffic, good music, good moods, sun was out, snow was melting.  Created a Nick Drake station on Pandora.  Good vibes.

Got to the diagnostic center right before 7.  Signed in with the registration lady and waited a few minutes before Lynn, the nicest phlebotomist ever, came to bring me to the lab.

For those of you who don’t know, you are pretty much required to have a glucose screening test done towards the end of your second trimester.  This tests you for gestational diabetes.  Gestational diabetes is a high blood sugar condition that some women are unlucky enough to develop during their pregnancy.  Since it doesn’t really produce any symptoms, this lovely test is the only sure-fire way to find out if you have it.  Here is the dumb part:  A positive result doesn’t necessarily mean that you have gestational diabetes.  It just means that more testing and pricking is required (i.e. glucose tolerance test).  Stupid pricks.

So Lynn brings me to the lab, and sets a small bottle in front of me explaining that I need to drink it in less than 5 minutes.  The first bottle she gave me was frozen solid, so I was pleased, until she noticed it too and went to get me another one.  She said not to listen to all of those horror stories I was told by my friends about how gross it tastes, blah blah.  She said they switched the flavor to lemon-lime, and now far less women actually get sick from it.

I start drinking, and was pleasantly surprised.  Now, by no means would I ever choose to drink this, but it wasn’t as bad as I had pictured the taste to be.  I still held my nose like a little kid and drank it all down.  I was quite pleased with myself, because I didn’t even feel the least bit nauseous!  Lynn gave me a sheet of paper, outlining that I would need to walk back to the lab at 8:10 a.m.   She told me to read the list she gave me.  This basically included “Do not leave the facility/ waiting room”…”You may use the restroom”…and “If you start to feel light-headed or queasy, tell the front desk immediately”

So I head back to the waiting room and take out my work items to sort through.  It was merely alphabetizing some inspection forms, but busy work that needed to get done.  In the background, Nancy Grace was playing.  I realize how much I actually hate her while being forced to listen to her shenanigans.  About 30 minutes pass, and I’m starting to lose focus.  I figure, this is understandable since I have nothing in my stomach but this ultra-sugar water.  It gets so bad that I have to put my work documents away.  I just sat and focused on assclown Nancy Grace, and kept looking around the room.

At this point, I was starting to feel queasy and quite light-headed.  I got up, and noticed the only two registration clerks were helping two people check in.  I didn’t want to be rude, so I waited.  Then I promptly changed my mind because things were starting to spiral out of control.  I got the one woman’s attention who check me in, and told her I was feeling queasy and quite weak.  She told me to go ahead and walk back to the lab to see Lynn.  I grabbed my stuff and made my way back to the lab.  I don’t even remember the walk.  When I saw Lynn, she assumed the hour had gone by and it was ready for my blood to be drawn.  When she looked up at me from her laptop screen, she must have known something was wrong and grabbed my arm and guided me to a chair in the back.  I guess I was trying to tell her I was weak and dizzy, but I wasn’t making any sense.  She told me I was whiter than my coat (no pale jokes!)

As she brought me to the chair and reclined me back, she told me that the paper said I shouldn’t have walked back to her, but should have gotten a receptionist.  I quickly told her that I did, and she instructed me to walk back.  Big mistake, I guess!

I started sweating profusely through my shirt (gross), and everything I could hear was garbled and muffled.  The room was spinning.  Then I felt like I was going to vomit.  I asked her if she had a trash can.  She said, “you better try to hold it for 20 more minutes, or we’ll have to do this all over again!”  She got me an ice pack and put it behind my neck, turned up the fans in my room, and turned off the lights.  I focused so hard on not puking.  I still can’t believe that I was able to hold it.  She guided me in a relaxation exercise which very slowly started to work.  I could feel my body relaxing, and my head stopped spinning, and I was much more peaceful.  A few nurses checked on me randomly.

In the background at one point, I heard Lynn call up to the front office saying, “We’ve told you guys before, you cannot send patients back here if they tell you they are feeling weak or light-headed, you have to call us to come get them.  This girl nearly passed out before she even got to the lab.  I barely got her to a chair.  What is wrong with you?!”

Lynn came back and checked on me shortly after that.  She told me the reason I should have never been allowed to walk back by myself was because I definitely could have fainted in the hallway without anyone ever knowing, and who knows how long I would have laid there for.  She also said if that had happened (which we were moments away from), they would have had to bring me to the ER because I’m pregnant.  And it’s never good if you fall while pregnant, obviously.  So that was scary to even think about.

Shortly after, Lynn took my blood.  I surprisingly didn’t care at all about that.  I usually get so amped up and nervous when I have to give blood.  At that point, I don’t think I cared what was going on.  She got me some cheese and crackers after that, and proceeded to ask if I wanted the good news or the bad news first.

UGH.  I had indeed failed the glucose test, after all of that drama.  Fuck.  All for nothing.  And now I would have to schedule the 3-hour glucose tolerance test at another date/ time.  These are all things I should have heard at my next doctor’s appointment, but Lynn was nice enough to tell me ahead of time because I guess there is a special office I can go to with reclining seats and TV stations.  She said to specifically tell them that I did not do well with this test and nearly passed out, so I need to be somewhere with an easily accessible bed/ recliner in the event that it happens again.

The only nice thing about the 3-hour test is that the sugar amount is only half what was in the drink I had today.  It’s a fruit punch that they give you, and then they prick your finger 4 times in the three hours following consumption.  She seems to think I will pass with flying colors.  My doctor also thought I would pass this one without a problem, so now I’m just annoyed.  Diabetes does not run in my family, or Mike’s for that matter.  So I don’t get it.

So that’s my glucose failure story.  It was really the scariest feeling ever.  I’m not happy about it.  I told Mike about it on my drive home and he said, “That sounds about right.”  I swear he thinks I’m being dramatic.  I should have made him come with me!

Now I’m going to try to nap for the next few hours and forget that this day happened.  I can’t wait to tell baby girl about all the problems her mama encountered along the way.  She will probably still end up being a daddy’s girl and hating me 🙂