Queen of Vague

Thank you for the emails. Because I am always so terminally late with the posting I tend to backtrack instead of stay current on this blog.

So here's the update:

I do have gestational diabetes. I have been monitoring and watching my diet for 9 days now, and things are going extremely well. The first two days were very hard because I was already stressed about my Dad and Dean trying to get home, my Sciatica was really acting up, and I was averaging 3-4 hours of sleep a day for a solid week. Getting told during this time that I had to start preplanning meals and measuring my food was just too much. Sometimes you're just too tired to stand there and count out exactly 17 medium sized grapes (15 grams of carbs worth) when eating itself almost takes more energy than you can muster.

As far as how it goes today, well, I can guestimate and just use common sense except at night. My numbers during the day are just fine, enough so that I've been told to up my carbs at breakfast and snacks and have not seen any rise in my blood glucose. I already eat pretty healthfully, so the only things I've given up so far are milk and cereal. I can't tell you how much I wish fiber wasn't a carb!

The problem is overnight while I'm sleeping/fasting . The goal for a fasting glucose is 90 or below, and mine remains 93-95 even with a big dose of protein only before bed. When I add even 10g of carbs it shoots up to 101-106. I should find out by Tuesday whether or not we'll be adding meds before bed. During the day I am supposed to aim for no more than 120 2 hours after a meal. I've been consistently in the high 80s to mid 90s. Funny though, stress really does play a role. (I saw my glucose shoot to 138 after receiving a statement from my insurance that suggested I may have to fork over $1400 that should have been covered. It's since been resolved.) To give you an idea of where these fall, I am not to call anyone unless I have a reading of 240 or above. I have also had two just above what they want to see ketone readings, but they think that by adding more carbs and cals during the day like I have been should bring it back down.

I have also learned from another blood test that this is absolutely gestational diabetes. In some cases the mother had diabetes prepregnancy and it just hadn't been diagnosed yet. Big fat phew!

So all is well here. Things are going to be pretty hectic until Olive makes her debut. (We're expecting her earlier now since the diagnosis. Can't say that knowing I won't go until 42 weeks again and have to be induced anyway isn't a big relief.) Preschool is starting the end of the the school year onslaught of guests and parties, soccer season starts this Saturday, floor hockey starts sometime in March, sib class for the Cracker, his birthday party the weekend after this one, Jason's birthday next week, family coming to town both for the Cracker's birthday party and then right back again for the baby... I already miss sleeping in. And the baby's room is not done. Sigh.

As for the chickadee herself, she's was pronounced head down at my 30 week appointment. This was no shock as I can really feel the difference, especially in my bladder. (As my midwife puts it, heads are much heavier than butts.) Since flipping she's decided that rib kicking is a super fun way to pass the time. We've also hit that stage where it's no longer "I think I just saw your belly move...wait there it is again" to "OMG what the hell is she doing in there???"

Life is good.

Bring on the Drama, Part 1

I give up.

So the morning after finding out I had failed the 1 hour glucose it was my day to work at the Co-op. It was also our day to bring snack. And in case you don't already know, when you're 4 bringing your Mom/Dad to preschool and snack on the same day is like the biggest friggin deal ever. (Because you get to turn off the lights and tell everyone it's time to clean up, pick a song at story time, and help the teachers open the door for recess.) Now school most days for the Cracker is only 2.5 hours, so being an hour late sucks because we already live 25 minutes away. And if you are one of the parents working that day you just make sure not to be late. Easy. Except, I get the car loaded up, drive 3 feet, and can tell something is not right. Not a little flat or huh well that's flat, but a fuck that rat bastard is sitting on the rim and ain't nobody going nowhere flat. Luckily for me and not so much for him, it was the one day that J had decided to go in late so he could catch up on some much needed sleep. So we woke his ass up, poor guy, rushed him as best we could, me with the "OMG FUCK! I'm working today!" and the Cracker with the "OMG my friends will all die of starvation if I don't bring snack!" and carpooled in. Now, normally I would have just at least attempted to change the damn tire, but you know, 7.5 mos pregnant and all, on a vehicle that I've owned for more than 4 years but never had to change a tire on, and how the hell do you get the spare out when it's up and under on the outside (SUV) which must require some tool and where the hell is the owner's manual... Yeah, no. So we made it, late, but everyone survived and snack was served.

Oh, and because what are the odds... I had not had a flat since like 2001, but after buying this set of tires in December 2006 I had two slow leaks, a nail and a screw, in the first 3 months. Interestingly, no nails/screws while the houses all around us were under construction, but two years after we are now up to three in a year. Oh, and this is the good part: this new nail was on one of the tires that had already been patched and right next to said patch, and they cannot patch next to a patch, so tire was a total loss at like 12K on a 75K rated tire. That takes mad driving skills yo, let me tell you. But because it was Costco, and I heart Costco (though they royally pissed me off the other day...vent later) I only had to pay $60 for a new $200+ tire. Hooray for the my wife aims for nails road hazard warranty.

Next day I go for my 3 hour glucose. The plan was for J to go to work ahead of time (lab is only a mile away from his office) and I bring the Cracker in and get started, J comes and gets him from the lab and takes him to school, and then if all is just perfectly timed I can pick him up. (School = 2.5hrs and is a good 10-15 minutes from the lab.) Except J is stressed, and even though I have been nagging him double and triple checking that he can do it, he forgets that morning and he can't. Fine, really. I just tell the lab that sorry, I have to drive my kid up to school after we get underway, I'll be back within the hour no problem. They say fine...they couldn't care less. I've checked in and they know why I'm there: 4 perfectly timed blood tests, the drink, and 3 hours. They tell me it will be a few minutes while they get things prepped. Except they can't stop flirting with each other long enough to start the process, and then suddenly it's busy. The Cracker and I are seated in the same long hall as the overflow from the walk-in clinic, and I the ever increasing Germaphobe (because I've already been sick enough once this pregnancy, thank you) am freaking out because everyone in New Mexico seems to currently have the flu: everyone at J's work, 1/2 the class is out at school, and it's headlining the local news. Co-mingling with urgent care and a little boy who must touch everything and then pick his nose is not my idea of fun. And I've been fasting for 14hours already. AN HOUR AND 20 MINUTES LATER they finally get me started. Wow, gee, thanks. All someone had to do to start the process was take a little vial of blood, then hand me a drink and start the timer, but flirting is way more important than doing your actual job. I end up rushing back to get him between timed tests and then have an hour to kill after finishing and before my midwife appointment in the same building. Oh, and I am suddenly shaky 15 minutes after the 4th blood draw. Fantastic sign, no?

As for taking my son with me to see the midwife... Can I just say right now how fun it is to have to pee in a cup with your almost 5 year old son watching and screaming DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING INCLUDING THAT WHICH SEEMS INNOCUOUS BUT MAY HAVE BEEN TOUCHED BY THE LAST PERSON WHO HAD BAD AIM, BEFORE THEY WASHED THEIR HANDS. And the room is so tiny that if he isn't facing me he's licking the wall inadvertently. And what are those wipes for Mom? Why are you wiping before you pee? Why do they come in little packages? What's sterile? Why do they need to be sterile? Bugs?There might be bugs???

(Sometimes, just sometimes, it is nice to have a checkup by yourself without the 20 questions.)

Results were, of course, not in yet and hour after the fact. But there was glucose in my urine at that midwife appointment, and I had my nice solid 1 hour fail, not to mention shakes after being done, so yeah, no suspense there.

My Something Happy

With all the sadness in the world lately, I feel the need to post something happy.

Voilà one "Smiling Porcupine"

(And if you happen to be eating your Wheaties at the present time urine is mentioned in a not so appetizing way below.)

Being the weirdo that I am, I asked the Cracker if he knew what porcupines eat. His guess? Popcorn.

So we ran to the computer to Wiki it.

Salt. They like salt. I enjoy popcorn for the salt, so awesome guess in my book. Know what else they like?

"Natural sources of salt consumed by porcupines include varieties of salt-rich plants (such as yellow water lily and aquatic liverwort), fresh animal bones, outer tree bark, mud in salt-rich soils, and objects impregnated with urine."

One day I shall remember to read ahead.

The world lost a really beautiful person today

Most of us are born into loving families. My dad was not. As the old saying goes, you may not get to choose your family, but you do get to choose your friends. Dean was my Dad's best friend; Dean was family to us.

He and my Dad had just left this last Thursday on a nearly month long tour of South America. This morning in Santiago, Chile, while getting ready to leave for the next destination, Dean simply collapsed. My Dad was right there.

Not only has he lost his best friend, my Dad is now struggling through loads of foreign red tape trying to figure out how he will get his body released to bring Dean home to his wife and daughters. My Dad will not come home without him.

I am beyond devestated for my Dad. They were best friends who not only spent much of their free time together, but also worked together, climbing the ranks together up until retirement. (Dean ended his career a Judge as well.) They had season tickets to the Giants and Bears Football together. All I can think is that those kind of friends don't come around more than once in a lifetime, and how very lonely my Dad will be.

Dean was my first crush, even though he had about 40 years on me. I still remember when he asked me to dance with him at his wedding. I was 6 and it was the most magical moment of my young life. He had me stand on his feet.

When I went looking for pictures tonight I found about a gazillion, but these were my favorites. The second one they had self titled "Judges Gone Wild"




He will be very missed.

Elevated

A month ago I had days where the pain was so bad I couldn't get out of bed, just lay there with tears streaming down my face. Just trying to get to the bathroom was a huge undertaking: the pain and inactivity made me stiff, I had a leg that wasn't working at all, and no idea where my center of gravity was. J was already working mega overtime on a project that had been doomed for months but was now nearing peak catastrophe levels, no family in town to help, it was scary because I was only at 25 weeks. The Cracker was born at 42 weeks, 1 day. What the hell was I going to do if things not only didn't get better but got worse over the next 15-17 weeks? It was all so unpredictable...one day I would be okay, and then a string of bad days would follow. I didn't really feel like it was fair to ask my parents to drag themselves out here from California to take care of the Cracker when who even knew how I'd feel tomorrow. It was after 5 really bad days in a row that I totally lost my shit and became hysterical and was able to get my first Chiropractor appointment moved up on an emergency basis. That was a Thursday. Whaddaya know? The next day was a better day...I was able to get out of bed. By my first appointment the following Monday things were much better again. I felt like an ass.

So...yesterday I was shooting my mouth off to J about how positively fantastic I was feeling. With all the little episodes of mini drama during my first and second trimesters resolved, my back problems/sciatica are under control under the care of an amazing (specializes in pregnancy) Chiropractor I felt on top of the world. I even had more energy, much more than I've had pretty much this entire pregnancy. And it all felt soooo good, not just physically, but mentally too. I'm 29 weeks pregnant, feeling fucking like Wonder Woman. I was done with the drama...this was how it was going to be dammit!

And today was going to be the best day yet, because this was my one day this week to sleep in past 7:15a. No school, no school functions, no Midwife/Doctor/Dentist appointments, no birthday parties, and none of that blasted Saturday morning soccer.

At 7:23a the phone rang. "You failed your 1 hour glucose test." I'm sorry...didn't you get the "No More Drama No Matter How Minor" memo? It's before 8a and I haven't had any caffeine since goddamn August.

"How badly did I fail?"
"Your level was elevated. We need more information."
"Did I barely fail, solidly fail, or miserably fail?"
"Solidly."

Fucking fantastic. My happy bubble is officially popped.

I know this isn't a diagnosis, and even if it were, it's not the end of the world. But just like clockwork, here we go again with a new thing every 3-4 weeks.

I am seriously pissed off.

Way too tired

So in case you missed it, here's Spiders on Drugs.

Funny how that doesn't narrow it down

"Hey Mom, can we go to that place again today?"
"What place?"
"That place blah blah blah blah blah."
"Huh? What was it called?"
"I don't bremember, but blah blah blah. Oh! And we got rockstar parking!"

My dear child, we live in New Mexico. Unless you're at Walmart, Flying Star, or a carniceria, rockstar parking just isn't a big wup.