Three weeks is the longest I've gone without blogging.
Didja miss me?
This new motherhood thing is work. Serious work. So serious, in fact, that I've decided not to return to my fulltime job. Instead, I'll continue to freelance for the magazines I've always freelanced for, but will focus on those instead of the full-time gig.
I still get general staff emails from my boss at the full-time gig, imploring the staff to meet their deadlines and updating people how the magazine hasn't shipped out the door on time.
I don't miss that one bit.
Because now when I'm working at midnight, it's at home feeding my son, instead of sitting at a desk, bleary-eyed, having sat there for the previous 15 hours reading or researching.
So I called and told both the HR department and the above boss that I'd be available to freelance from home, or somehow work part time, but I just could not return to the office in the full time, work-til-midnight-during-deadline-week capacity.
And because I am old (i.e., 37, not 27) and doing motherhood for the first time, I didn't feel bad at all about not returning to work in an office. As I've mentioned before, I spent my 20s and much of my 30s being Supercareer Gal, committed to inching my way up an editorial ladder.
Now that I've had the editorial jobs I've had, worked in the offices I've worked in, and had the names on my resume I have, I feel like I've done a lot of what I wanted to do in my career. Of course, I still love working as a journalist/reporter/researcher/writer/editor, which is why I'm continuing to freelance. But schlepping into an office for many hours each day, while I have my cute Baby L at home being his newborn baby self, just doesn't cut it anymore.
Ah, Baby L. So cute. So vexing. Such a baby.
He's nine weeks old this week and had his vaccinations last Friday at his two-month appointment. While not as harrowing as his Bris, I still cried when he got the three (!) shots. He screamed in bewilderment and pain and I felt bad. So bad. He was ok a few minutes later, looking at himself contentedly in the mirror in the examination room, while I was still drying my eyes. Later that night, after he slept the afternoon away, he was inconsolable again and needed his first dose of infant Tylenol.
But my time with him hasn't been all shots and tears. Far from it--I love singing to my son. "Where Is Thumbkin?" Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" and when he cries while I change his diaper ("A-wah!" "A-wah!"), I tell him to hold on for me to fasten the fasteners, to hold on while I use a million wipes to clean him up, and to hold on when I segue into Richard Marx's "Hold On To The Nights."
I love cuddling with him, holding him over my shoulder to burp him and he throws his arms over one shoulder while resting his tiny face on its side. Watching him kick as he's lying in his bassinet (he's very kicky--swaddling blankets just don't work on him anymore). Watching him sleep with his arms thrown to the side or above his head. Watching him smile when I say his name, or kiss his face.
At this stage, I'm told, you don't get a lot back from infants--more personality traits, more laughter, more sleeping through the night--tends to happen around the three-four month mark.
But he's so great as a tiny infant.
We go to different Mommy and Me-type classes in my 'hood every week. With my researcher skills still sharp, I've found all sorts of these classes in different towns near me. I've found three different theaters that show movies for moms to bring their babies--the lights aren't so dim, and no one minds if your kid starts to cry during the show. I've gone for walks in my town with a group of stroller-pushing moms who are also trying to shed the baby weight (I've still got a lot to shed).
And I spend a lot of time pumping breast milk--up to six or seven times a day, twenty minutes at a time, trying to eke out whatever milk I can give my boy since breastfeeding wasn't in the cards. It's funny how my life has honed in on this activity. When I got a hands-free bra to pump, freeing my hands up to read or surf the Internet, it completely changed my life. Seriously. I got a car adapter soon after, and now I can leave the house for more than a short few hours at a time. I've pumped while parked in my car. While driving my car. I schlep a bulky black bag that isn't a snazzy sleek diaper bag because the bulky bag has a compartment to put ice packs for me to cool my expressed breast milk on the road.
I mean, really--my life and priorities have changed a thousandfold since giving birth. Which is why my full-time gig and blogging haven't been at the forefront of my mind. But I'm still around, reading a lot of your blogs and posting when I can. And I'm committed to maintaining my blog. It's just hard to know when I'll have pockets of time in between the kissing and the pumping and the doctor's visits and the smiling for my boy. My sweet Baby L.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Week Six Update
This new momhood thing takes a lot of time.
I haven't had a chance to post in more than a week now, but things have been good. I've been going to a few new mommy and me classes, and there's enough activities in my community that make me realize I could go to mom classes all week long.
Some people have complained about being bored at home with their newborns, but honestly, between the Internet, things to read, pumping breast milk and oh yeah, taking care of my kid, who's got time to be bored?
My diabetes care has been OK. I had an A1c taken at my six-week postpartum appointment last Friday, and am waiting to see how that's going, but I expect it'll be fine.
New motherhood, particularly the breastfeeding quest, reminds me a bit of what it must be like for people who are newly diagnosed with diabetes. It's a new way of living your life, it's far different than anything you've done before, and sometimes, it's an easy transition and sometimes it isn't.
I'm still writing down every time my kid eats, poops, pees, and how much he eats when he does eat. It reminds me of writing down my blood sugars and eating patterns and carb counts (except I stopped all that diabetic charting awhile back. I'm still married to charting Baby L's patterns; it's still new and novel for me.)
Baby L continues to be a great kid. He sleeps a lot (though NO, not through the night at all). In a Mommy and Me class I started today, I noted how much people talked about soothing their fussy babies, what they did at 4am last night (running the hair dryer and tuning the radio in between stations for the static) to calm their kids. My kid wakes up crying, drinks what he needs to from a bottle, gets changed, and generally nods off again. Sometimes I hold him and he calms down, and when it's the 4-to-5 am feeding, I might put him in bed with me and watch him as he goes to sleep and I sleep on my side, not so deeply, so that I can make sure a blanket doesn't cover his face or I don't roll over on him. People are divided about whether co-sleeping is bad or not, but it's pretty cozy with the baby next to me.
We have him in a bassinet next to our bed and will eventually transition him into his own crib in his own room when it seems obvious he's outgrowing the bassinet. But for now, it's nice having him nearby. It's also nice having him fall asleep on my chest, or carrying him and dancing around with him, or singing to him. (I've moved on to new baby songs, like Itsy-Bitsy Spider, as well as new songs I make up, such as "Who's The Greatest Boy In the Land? (Baby L is! Baby L is!)"
What else? I'm totally behind reading other people's blogs. I haven't thought much about my full-time job at all. I've been contacted by one or two of my freelance contacts asking when I can start working again, and I'm wondering when to start freelancing again. But so far, I've been enjoying most of my new role as a new mom and really enjoying my son when he's awake and alert.
I haven't had a chance to post in more than a week now, but things have been good. I've been going to a few new mommy and me classes, and there's enough activities in my community that make me realize I could go to mom classes all week long.
Some people have complained about being bored at home with their newborns, but honestly, between the Internet, things to read, pumping breast milk and oh yeah, taking care of my kid, who's got time to be bored?
My diabetes care has been OK. I had an A1c taken at my six-week postpartum appointment last Friday, and am waiting to see how that's going, but I expect it'll be fine.
New motherhood, particularly the breastfeeding quest, reminds me a bit of what it must be like for people who are newly diagnosed with diabetes. It's a new way of living your life, it's far different than anything you've done before, and sometimes, it's an easy transition and sometimes it isn't.
I'm still writing down every time my kid eats, poops, pees, and how much he eats when he does eat. It reminds me of writing down my blood sugars and eating patterns and carb counts (except I stopped all that diabetic charting awhile back. I'm still married to charting Baby L's patterns; it's still new and novel for me.)
Baby L continues to be a great kid. He sleeps a lot (though NO, not through the night at all). In a Mommy and Me class I started today, I noted how much people talked about soothing their fussy babies, what they did at 4am last night (running the hair dryer and tuning the radio in between stations for the static) to calm their kids. My kid wakes up crying, drinks what he needs to from a bottle, gets changed, and generally nods off again. Sometimes I hold him and he calms down, and when it's the 4-to-5 am feeding, I might put him in bed with me and watch him as he goes to sleep and I sleep on my side, not so deeply, so that I can make sure a blanket doesn't cover his face or I don't roll over on him. People are divided about whether co-sleeping is bad or not, but it's pretty cozy with the baby next to me.
We have him in a bassinet next to our bed and will eventually transition him into his own crib in his own room when it seems obvious he's outgrowing the bassinet. But for now, it's nice having him nearby. It's also nice having him fall asleep on my chest, or carrying him and dancing around with him, or singing to him. (I've moved on to new baby songs, like Itsy-Bitsy Spider, as well as new songs I make up, such as "Who's The Greatest Boy In the Land? (Baby L is! Baby L is!)"
What else? I'm totally behind reading other people's blogs. I haven't thought much about my full-time job at all. I've been contacted by one or two of my freelance contacts asking when I can start working again, and I'm wondering when to start freelancing again. But so far, I've been enjoying most of my new role as a new mom and really enjoying my son when he's awake and alert.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
One month old!
Only a month later, the Mister and I have pulled together some photos of Baby L to put on official announcements we're sending out. (Like the 400 emails we sent weren't "official." But I digress.)
Because I'm neurotic that way, I'm not posting any photos of our Boy online for fear of weird Internet stalkers and whatever. (You'll notice I haven't posted any photos of myself or the Mister, either).
But if you'd like to see what our Boy looks like AND I have a sense of who you are (i.e., you're a regular commenter here, or I read your blog and pretty much know you already), I'll send you a email. If, for whatever reason, you request to be on the photo list but I don't know you, I'm going to just skip sending out an email. No hard feelings, of course. But in this age of To Catch a Predator and Cyberbullying and all that, better safe than sorry.
In other news, Baby L had his one month checkup yesterday.
He's gained a terrific amount of weight, which pleases me. NOT because of my champion breastfeeding efforts, which at this point, have been retired. Due to a lack of efficiency, (still) low milk production, and frustration on both of our parts, the Boy and I have come to a mutual understanding that I will pump breastmilk for him every few hours, and I will stop attempting to solely feed him by boob alone.
As mentioned, likely over and over already, the Boy latches on, but can eat for an hour and I still have to give him a bottle of breast milk or formula. This makes feedings last for two hours or so, instead of the forty minutes a mere bottle or two would last.
And with the weather outside delightful for a change, who wants to stay inside focused on the feeding elements (bottle washing, latching and unlatching, arranging pillows to support the baby in my arms, etc. etc. etc.) when there's other things to do, like tummy time, cuddling, singing songs (Baby L likes U2, REM, Stevie Nicks and old '80s hits like "In A Big Country" and "Rio." I kid you not. Singing to my Boy is like starring in my own Kareoke festival.)
I'm still a bit nervous about stopping pumping entirely and giving the Boy formula only, with my nuttiness about assorted diseases coming and attacking him over the next fifty years. But when the pediatrician looks lovingly at our Boy and deems him "perfect" with every appointment, it eases my concerns.
At least it did yesterday.
Because I'm neurotic that way, I'm not posting any photos of our Boy online for fear of weird Internet stalkers and whatever. (You'll notice I haven't posted any photos of myself or the Mister, either).
But if you'd like to see what our Boy looks like AND I have a sense of who you are (i.e., you're a regular commenter here, or I read your blog and pretty much know you already), I'll send you a email. If, for whatever reason, you request to be on the photo list but I don't know you, I'm going to just skip sending out an email. No hard feelings, of course. But in this age of To Catch a Predator and Cyberbullying and all that, better safe than sorry.
In other news, Baby L had his one month checkup yesterday.
He's gained a terrific amount of weight, which pleases me. NOT because of my champion breastfeeding efforts, which at this point, have been retired. Due to a lack of efficiency, (still) low milk production, and frustration on both of our parts, the Boy and I have come to a mutual understanding that I will pump breastmilk for him every few hours, and I will stop attempting to solely feed him by boob alone.
As mentioned, likely over and over already, the Boy latches on, but can eat for an hour and I still have to give him a bottle of breast milk or formula. This makes feedings last for two hours or so, instead of the forty minutes a mere bottle or two would last.
And with the weather outside delightful for a change, who wants to stay inside focused on the feeding elements (bottle washing, latching and unlatching, arranging pillows to support the baby in my arms, etc. etc. etc.) when there's other things to do, like tummy time, cuddling, singing songs (Baby L likes U2, REM, Stevie Nicks and old '80s hits like "In A Big Country" and "Rio." I kid you not. Singing to my Boy is like starring in my own Kareoke festival.)
I'm still a bit nervous about stopping pumping entirely and giving the Boy formula only, with my nuttiness about assorted diseases coming and attacking him over the next fifty years. But when the pediatrician looks lovingly at our Boy and deems him "perfect" with every appointment, it eases my concerns.
At least it did yesterday.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Three Weeks In
My Boy was born three weeks ago today.
1. Breast feeding continues to kick my ass. I'm meeting with another, highly recommended group of lactation consultants tomorrow to see why the Boy can latch on to me, nurse for a damn hour, sound like he's eating and swallowing just fine, but still screams with hunger when he finally pulls off the boob.
2. As a follow up to Friday, I had the Boy weighed at the pediatrician's office after a few days of trying to wean him off formula in favor of an entirely-breast-fed diet, and he's not gaining weight as fast as he should. He should have been eight pounds on Friday, and he was only 7 pounds 12 ounces. So this breastfeeding challenge isn't just my own schtick; it's really not an effective way for the Boy to eat. (I still feel super-strongly, that breast milk is just healthier and better for him, which is why I'm continuing my efforts so far).
3. In between all my efforts (having the Boy on the boobs, then giving him supplemental bottles of both pumped breast milk and formula, for a total of three ounces of fluid per feeding, AND THEN pumping for twenty minutes after all that), the Boy sleeps a lot in between meals.
4. He's actually sleeping right now, giving me some precious free time to go online, wash dishes (because with all those bottles, I am handwashing a ton right now).
5. A friend let me borrow a tiny newborn sling so I've been wearing the Boy on my body, rather than letting him sleep in his bassinet in one room while I carry a monitor to a different part of the house to listen in on him to make sure he's OK while I'm say, in the kitchen washing dishes. The sling seems a bit earthy-crunchy and Attachment Parenting to me, two concepts I hadn't thought I subscribed to, but it's honestly nice to be blogging right now with the Boy all snuggly and warm on my body right here, instead of across the room in his bassinet.
6. Mister L went back to work full time last week, and while I thought the week would be tough on my own, it actually wasn't so bad. It's much easier to tend to the Boy and myself when no one else is here, although I did have several visitors over the week. My mother, in particular, came over often and is really helping me out. She cleaned out our refrigerator, for example, while I was trying yet again to breastfeed. Stuff like that is super-helpful.
7. Our house, and myself in particular, is generally sort of cluttered. I have been wearing the same loungewear for a few days now and I'm lucky if I can shower every two days. We had guests over last night and I've never looked worse in front of people other than my husband or own family. But frankly, I could care less (except when I see pictures and see how un-glam I look).
8. While I am tired most of the time, that insomnia I've dealt with both pre- and during pregnancy has served me well. I can get by doing things on not a lot of sleep (heck, I'm blogging right now instead of napping, aren't I?) and in the middle of the night when the Boy cries, I can pull myself out of bed and get what needs to be done done. The Mister, on the other hand, has always required a lot of sleep. A LOT of sleep.
9. While I'm doing the majority of diaper duty and feedings (I've been giving the Mister the bottle feedings when he's coherent), the Mister has done umpteen loads of laundry, entirely planned the Boy's bris two weeks ago when we had fifty people and a ton of food in our house, and goes shopping as needed when we run out of things, like cranberry juice. (Breastfeedings means you should be drinking all the time).
10. Oh yeah, the diabetes. My sugars have been OK, not great, since coming home from the hospital as a new mom. My basal rates are sort of simple, not the twelve different rates I had both pre-pregnancy and during pregnancy. My correction rate is so simple now, as is my meal ratios. The first few days, I couldn't believe I was using so little insulin and that my body was responding appropriately. We're talking daily insulin doses of 34 units, down from 120 units during pregnancy. I used to regularly take, say, 20 units of insulin for a meal. Now taking seven or eight units for a meal is considered a lot. And I'm shocked when high blood sugars go down with a 1:40 correction rate, down from the 1:10 rate I was using at the tail end of the pregnancy.
11. Sugars, of course, are typically in the triple digits (mid-100s, say) rather than flirting with the 60-90 range I saw during pregnancy. While sometimes I think it wouldn't be bad to try to regain that kind of control, particularly because I can always recognize my reactions and tested so frequently to catch any lows, the breastfeeding/feeding schedule for the Boy is generally taking up a ton of my time (especially when I try to feed him by boob first, which adds a good 45 minutes to the routine.)
12. Am in the middle of catching up on a ton of blogs, and am commenting slowly.
13. The postpartum hormones appear to have chilled out for me; I'm no longer bursting into tears over people's kindness or my own frustration (as I did the first few weeks I got home). My itchy drug-reaction rashy legs are slowly feeling better, though my calves are still swollen. The ankles seems somewhat smaller, though.
14. I signed up for a bunch of new mom classes that are offered in my town. They all start in a few weeks and it'll be interesting to actually leave the house for something recreational, rather than yet another doctor's appointment for either myself or the Boy.
1. Breast feeding continues to kick my ass. I'm meeting with another, highly recommended group of lactation consultants tomorrow to see why the Boy can latch on to me, nurse for a damn hour, sound like he's eating and swallowing just fine, but still screams with hunger when he finally pulls off the boob.
2. As a follow up to Friday, I had the Boy weighed at the pediatrician's office after a few days of trying to wean him off formula in favor of an entirely-breast-fed diet, and he's not gaining weight as fast as he should. He should have been eight pounds on Friday, and he was only 7 pounds 12 ounces. So this breastfeeding challenge isn't just my own schtick; it's really not an effective way for the Boy to eat. (I still feel super-strongly, that breast milk is just healthier and better for him, which is why I'm continuing my efforts so far).
3. In between all my efforts (having the Boy on the boobs, then giving him supplemental bottles of both pumped breast milk and formula, for a total of three ounces of fluid per feeding, AND THEN pumping for twenty minutes after all that), the Boy sleeps a lot in between meals.
4. He's actually sleeping right now, giving me some precious free time to go online, wash dishes (because with all those bottles, I am handwashing a ton right now).
5. A friend let me borrow a tiny newborn sling so I've been wearing the Boy on my body, rather than letting him sleep in his bassinet in one room while I carry a monitor to a different part of the house to listen in on him to make sure he's OK while I'm say, in the kitchen washing dishes. The sling seems a bit earthy-crunchy and Attachment Parenting to me, two concepts I hadn't thought I subscribed to, but it's honestly nice to be blogging right now with the Boy all snuggly and warm on my body right here, instead of across the room in his bassinet.
6. Mister L went back to work full time last week, and while I thought the week would be tough on my own, it actually wasn't so bad. It's much easier to tend to the Boy and myself when no one else is here, although I did have several visitors over the week. My mother, in particular, came over often and is really helping me out. She cleaned out our refrigerator, for example, while I was trying yet again to breastfeed. Stuff like that is super-helpful.
7. Our house, and myself in particular, is generally sort of cluttered. I have been wearing the same loungewear for a few days now and I'm lucky if I can shower every two days. We had guests over last night and I've never looked worse in front of people other than my husband or own family. But frankly, I could care less (except when I see pictures and see how un-glam I look).
8. While I am tired most of the time, that insomnia I've dealt with both pre- and during pregnancy has served me well. I can get by doing things on not a lot of sleep (heck, I'm blogging right now instead of napping, aren't I?) and in the middle of the night when the Boy cries, I can pull myself out of bed and get what needs to be done done. The Mister, on the other hand, has always required a lot of sleep. A LOT of sleep.
9. While I'm doing the majority of diaper duty and feedings (I've been giving the Mister the bottle feedings when he's coherent), the Mister has done umpteen loads of laundry, entirely planned the Boy's bris two weeks ago when we had fifty people and a ton of food in our house, and goes shopping as needed when we run out of things, like cranberry juice. (Breastfeedings means you should be drinking all the time).
10. Oh yeah, the diabetes. My sugars have been OK, not great, since coming home from the hospital as a new mom. My basal rates are sort of simple, not the twelve different rates I had both pre-pregnancy and during pregnancy. My correction rate is so simple now, as is my meal ratios. The first few days, I couldn't believe I was using so little insulin and that my body was responding appropriately. We're talking daily insulin doses of 34 units, down from 120 units during pregnancy. I used to regularly take, say, 20 units of insulin for a meal. Now taking seven or eight units for a meal is considered a lot. And I'm shocked when high blood sugars go down with a 1:40 correction rate, down from the 1:10 rate I was using at the tail end of the pregnancy.
11. Sugars, of course, are typically in the triple digits (mid-100s, say) rather than flirting with the 60-90 range I saw during pregnancy. While sometimes I think it wouldn't be bad to try to regain that kind of control, particularly because I can always recognize my reactions and tested so frequently to catch any lows, the breastfeeding/feeding schedule for the Boy is generally taking up a ton of my time (especially when I try to feed him by boob first, which adds a good 45 minutes to the routine.)
12. Am in the middle of catching up on a ton of blogs, and am commenting slowly.
13. The postpartum hormones appear to have chilled out for me; I'm no longer bursting into tears over people's kindness or my own frustration (as I did the first few weeks I got home). My itchy drug-reaction rashy legs are slowly feeling better, though my calves are still swollen. The ankles seems somewhat smaller, though.
14. I signed up for a bunch of new mom classes that are offered in my town. They all start in a few weeks and it'll be interesting to actually leave the house for something recreational, rather than yet another doctor's appointment for either myself or the Boy.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Tales from the Underboob
Feeding the baby pretty much consumes much of my day.
I hear others have it easier, that their kids latch on the boob instantly, feed for ten minutes tops, then are satisfied and that's that.
Not my situation.
The breastfeeding continues to be my focus, and I'm alternating trying to feed the baby exclusively from me, pumping breast milk, and preparing bottles of formula when the baby doesn't seem to be satisfied. I don't want to jinx anything, and we're going to the pediatrician's office today for another weight check, but today seems to be slightly better than yesterday.
Baby L came home from the hospital two weeks ago today, which means he's been home twice as long as he was in the hospital. Seems hard to believe.
Found out my rashy itchy legs are not a pregnancy-related thing, but are instead a drug allergy and I just need to wait it out (since the cream I could take for it isn't great for the blood sugars or the baby.)
More later.
I hear others have it easier, that their kids latch on the boob instantly, feed for ten minutes tops, then are satisfied and that's that.
Not my situation.
The breastfeeding continues to be my focus, and I'm alternating trying to feed the baby exclusively from me, pumping breast milk, and preparing bottles of formula when the baby doesn't seem to be satisfied. I don't want to jinx anything, and we're going to the pediatrician's office today for another weight check, but today seems to be slightly better than yesterday.
Baby L came home from the hospital two weeks ago today, which means he's been home twice as long as he was in the hospital. Seems hard to believe.
Found out my rashy itchy legs are not a pregnancy-related thing, but are instead a drug allergy and I just need to wait it out (since the cream I could take for it isn't great for the blood sugars or the baby.)
More later.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Two Weeks In
Well, our boy is two weeks old today.
We've been home from the hospital more than a week, and while I've been documenting as much as I can, it's really been a blur.
In short:
1. The rest of the hospital stay was fine, but constantly punctuated by doctor's visits (ob, endo, endo fellow, assorted other residents, nurses, lactation consultants) and personal visits from family and friends. I can't believe I woke up the day after the baby was born and thought "what are we going to do to fill the day?"
2. The baby lost more than ten percent of his birth weight while still in the hospital, which meant I had to supplement my breast feeding efforts with formula. This was really not what I'd wanted, as I'd really wanted to avoid any formula feeding due to my kid's potential to develop diabetes. For whatever reason, I have it in my head that because of my type 1, I want to avoid giving the baby any cow's milk formula, because it might trigger something in my boy and he may develop type 1. I've heard many mixed things about this, and my endo herself didn't have any advice about what formula to give, so we've started him on alimentum, which is an elemental formula broken down and supposed to be the best choice. I've heard that the TRIGR study, the one that is studying a potential link between what might indicate a genetic risk of type 1, is using alimentum formula for study subjects. If anyone has any insight on this, I'd love to hear it. (And as an update, since supplementing, the boy had regained his birth weight as of last Friday, and the pediatrician was pleased.)
3. As a result, I've been focused on breastfeeding the boy for the past two weeks. In short, I challenge anyone who says "breastfeeding is cheap! It's easy!" After spending plenty of money to have a lactation consultant come to my house to give me direction, money on a pump rental, new bras and a special bra so I can pump hands-free (which has been one of the highlights of my week), and spending a ton of time asking for advice in the hospital from nurses, other lactation consultants, and my friends who have managed to breast feed their kids, I have become a zealot. I feel like I just went to college and am flunking a graduate-level course on breastfeeding.
4. Why am I flunking? Because, as the high-priced lactation consultant told me, I am not producing enough milk to feed my boy solely with my milk. Not to bore anyone, but I typically pump only about an ounce or an ounce and a half at a time, and the boy is eating anywhere from 2.5 to three ounces at a meal. I just started taking an herb called fenugreek, which hasn't upped my production to where it should be. There's also a drug called Reglan that the consultant thought had bad side effects, but my OB's office is happy to prescribe, saying they put their patients on it without a problem. Of course, wouldn't you know, the OB nurse tells me that it's not uncommon for type 1 moms who are "older" (i.e., I'm 37. I'm "old.") to have milk flow problems, though frankly, I haven't had the time to research anything online.
5. As a result, feeding a newborn is a round-the-clock deal for me. I feed him every 2.5 to 4 hours, depending on whether he's had a lot of formula or a little, and I pump after every feed to maintain my supply. Feeding takes anywhere from an hour to two, since the boy takes his time actually breastfeeding, and I try to feed him until he looks obviously full (i.e., refusing to eat anything else, no longer sucking on my finger when I put it in his mouth). This takes, as I said, a lot of my day.
6. This isn't even mentioning my first week feeding the boy, where I worried about nipple confusion and the nurses taught us how to finger-feed the boy. This entails attaching a small tube to your finger and filling a large syringe with either breast milk or formula, and then slowly giving it to the baby so he doesn't get too used to a bottle. The lactation consultant told me I was being ridiculous, and that if she was urging me to give the boy a bottle, it was a good idea. I did move on to a bottle (actually, two different brands) and thankfully, it has not ruined the boy on actually latching on to the boobs. I also have developed a terrible rash all over my legs that itches like crazy. I'm told it's called PUPs, or some pregnancy-related rash, and the treatment for it will dry up my milk supply. Great.
7. Totally forgot about the Bris, which was a week ago. In short, I was a basket case. The boy did just fine. I cried all day. Hormones are totally kicking my ass. I cry at things big and small.
8. Time for another feeding, so I must depart. However, the overall truth is that our boy is actually quite beautiful, generally well-behaved and calm (knock wood!) and healthy today. The major issue is with the breastfeeding supply. I don't even mind the sleep deprivation all that much, because my prior insomniac state is serving me well here. But if anyone has any insight on the links between formula and developing type 1 diabetes, increasing milk supply, and anything else worth commenting about, I'd love to read it.
We've been home from the hospital more than a week, and while I've been documenting as much as I can, it's really been a blur.
In short:
1. The rest of the hospital stay was fine, but constantly punctuated by doctor's visits (ob, endo, endo fellow, assorted other residents, nurses, lactation consultants) and personal visits from family and friends. I can't believe I woke up the day after the baby was born and thought "what are we going to do to fill the day?"
2. The baby lost more than ten percent of his birth weight while still in the hospital, which meant I had to supplement my breast feeding efforts with formula. This was really not what I'd wanted, as I'd really wanted to avoid any formula feeding due to my kid's potential to develop diabetes. For whatever reason, I have it in my head that because of my type 1, I want to avoid giving the baby any cow's milk formula, because it might trigger something in my boy and he may develop type 1. I've heard many mixed things about this, and my endo herself didn't have any advice about what formula to give, so we've started him on alimentum, which is an elemental formula broken down and supposed to be the best choice. I've heard that the TRIGR study, the one that is studying a potential link between what might indicate a genetic risk of type 1, is using alimentum formula for study subjects. If anyone has any insight on this, I'd love to hear it. (And as an update, since supplementing, the boy had regained his birth weight as of last Friday, and the pediatrician was pleased.)
3. As a result, I've been focused on breastfeeding the boy for the past two weeks. In short, I challenge anyone who says "breastfeeding is cheap! It's easy!" After spending plenty of money to have a lactation consultant come to my house to give me direction, money on a pump rental, new bras and a special bra so I can pump hands-free (which has been one of the highlights of my week), and spending a ton of time asking for advice in the hospital from nurses, other lactation consultants, and my friends who have managed to breast feed their kids, I have become a zealot. I feel like I just went to college and am flunking a graduate-level course on breastfeeding.
4. Why am I flunking? Because, as the high-priced lactation consultant told me, I am not producing enough milk to feed my boy solely with my milk. Not to bore anyone, but I typically pump only about an ounce or an ounce and a half at a time, and the boy is eating anywhere from 2.5 to three ounces at a meal. I just started taking an herb called fenugreek, which hasn't upped my production to where it should be. There's also a drug called Reglan that the consultant thought had bad side effects, but my OB's office is happy to prescribe, saying they put their patients on it without a problem. Of course, wouldn't you know, the OB nurse tells me that it's not uncommon for type 1 moms who are "older" (i.e., I'm 37. I'm "old.") to have milk flow problems, though frankly, I haven't had the time to research anything online.
5. As a result, feeding a newborn is a round-the-clock deal for me. I feed him every 2.5 to 4 hours, depending on whether he's had a lot of formula or a little, and I pump after every feed to maintain my supply. Feeding takes anywhere from an hour to two, since the boy takes his time actually breastfeeding, and I try to feed him until he looks obviously full (i.e., refusing to eat anything else, no longer sucking on my finger when I put it in his mouth). This takes, as I said, a lot of my day.
6. This isn't even mentioning my first week feeding the boy, where I worried about nipple confusion and the nurses taught us how to finger-feed the boy. This entails attaching a small tube to your finger and filling a large syringe with either breast milk or formula, and then slowly giving it to the baby so he doesn't get too used to a bottle. The lactation consultant told me I was being ridiculous, and that if she was urging me to give the boy a bottle, it was a good idea. I did move on to a bottle (actually, two different brands) and thankfully, it has not ruined the boy on actually latching on to the boobs. I also have developed a terrible rash all over my legs that itches like crazy. I'm told it's called PUPs, or some pregnancy-related rash, and the treatment for it will dry up my milk supply. Great.
7. Totally forgot about the Bris, which was a week ago. In short, I was a basket case. The boy did just fine. I cried all day. Hormones are totally kicking my ass. I cry at things big and small.
8. Time for another feeding, so I must depart. However, the overall truth is that our boy is actually quite beautiful, generally well-behaved and calm (knock wood!) and healthy today. The major issue is with the breastfeeding supply. I don't even mind the sleep deprivation all that much, because my prior insomniac state is serving me well here. But if anyone has any insight on the links between formula and developing type 1 diabetes, increasing milk supply, and anything else worth commenting about, I'd love to read it.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Birth Day
Good God, where to begin?
Baby L is ten days old, counting his birth day as day zero (as the hospital did) and we've been home since late last week.
I have barely had time to think, let alone blog or read other people's blogs. I'll make short statements about what's been going on.
1. The c-section birth went well. I walked confidently into the OR and asked if anyone ever walked out. "It'd be a miracle if anyone could walk out after the spinal/epidural," I was told. Getting a spinal/epidural injection in the back freaked me out in theory, but the reality was that I barely felt it going in, I did not know/see how long the needle was, and although I'd been warned about "the worst headache of your life" if the spinal didn't go well, that was thankfully not my issue. My legs and lower body felt really numb, really fast. So fast, that I felt like perhaps I was having a low blood sugar during the section, but I'd brought my meter into the operating room, had Mr. L. help me test, and I was 116, up from a steady 87-95 range all morning as we waited to be admitted to the OR.
2. Felt nauseous twice during the c-section, and both times the anesthesiologist waved an alcohol swab under my nose, which took the feeling away. The second time I felt like I would throw up, I asked "Can I get more alcohol over here?" My OB laughed (from the other side of the sheet that was held up by my chest so I didn't have to watch my own c-section occur) and said that was the first time she'd heard a patient ask for alcohol during a section.
3. Mr. L was in scrubs at my side during the whole thing, and brought a camera into the OR. I could feel pushing and pressing on my lower half during the section, and smelled something being cauterized, but when a nurse asked if I wanted to know what was being pushed, pulled, or cauterized during the procedure, I declined. Not typical for me, but I didn't need that much detail right then. However, the OB announced that I had "beautiful Fallopian tubes."
4. At one point, the OB yelled out "I see a head!" and I asked "Then why don't I hear any crying?" Within moments, we heard Baby L crying out loud. Healthy lungs, he has.
5. Someone held the baby up and showed the Mr. and I, but we'd requested that the baby be cleaned off before being handed over to Mr. L. The baby was weighed and measured, and given Apgar scores of 8 and 9. This made me proud. My boy did well on his Apgars! He's going to totally rock his SATs. You just watch.
6. Mr. L. held the baby and I took pictures as the OB reconstructed my nether regions ("We're putting the uterus back where it belongs!"). Near the end, two people in the OR (there were something like six or seven people in the room during the section) rolled me around and onto the bed that wheeled me out of the OR. Still felt numbness in my legs, but otherwise, I felt fine and lucid and good.
7. Looking at the baby, I saw immediately that he has my chin, big lips (that kid is going to be a great maker-outer, I said) and other characteristics that made me realize he looks a lot like me. I stopped worrying about whether I'd been carrying the wrong embryo post-IVF transfer at that point.
7. I don't want to say having a c-section was a piece of cake, but with morphine, torredol, two IVs and plenty of percoset and motrin afterwards, this procedure went (knock wood) fine for me. Having had a more extensive abodominal operation in the past gives me something to compare it to, and believe me, the section went very well.
8. In the recovery room, I called my mother from the bed as Mr. L called his mother and sister (all of whom were waiting in the hospital's lobby) and we simultaneously told our family about our newest arrival. My mother couldn't believe I was calling immediately after the section and started crying. She was very relieved that both the baby and I were doing just fine.
9. The baby was put under a warmer next to my bed because his temperature was a bit low, and I got to hold him on my chest and tried to breastfeed him (he latched but didn't get the hang of sucking. Much more on this to come in a future post). This is called skin-to-skin contact and it's really good for bonding with mom and baby. It's pretty fun--the baby chilling out on my skin is something I really enjoy.
10. Eventually, I was wheeled up to my hospital room, the Mister's parents and sister came to visit, and my parents visited after my mother went and bought many outfits for our newest arrival. My brother, who lives several states away, called all afternoon and at the end of the day, knocked and walked into my hospital room with a huge bouquet of flowers, having decided to make the four-hour drive to meet his new nephew. I was thrilled we had all this family around to meet our new boy.
11. Kept trying with the breast feeding thing. I'm still trying. In fact, feeding this kid has become my latest focus. Honestly, in the last week and a half, I feel like I've gone to college and become a scholar on the different techniques and tricks of feeding a newborn. One who needs to be supplemented because of too much weight loss. One who has a mother who overthinks and researches links between cow's milk and diabetes and wonders about nipple confusion and finger feeding and number of hours (minutes?) since the last feeding. Oh, and breast pumps. I've honestly never spent so much time topless as I have in the past ten days.
More to come, I promise.
Baby L is ten days old, counting his birth day as day zero (as the hospital did) and we've been home since late last week.
I have barely had time to think, let alone blog or read other people's blogs. I'll make short statements about what's been going on.
1. The c-section birth went well. I walked confidently into the OR and asked if anyone ever walked out. "It'd be a miracle if anyone could walk out after the spinal/epidural," I was told. Getting a spinal/epidural injection in the back freaked me out in theory, but the reality was that I barely felt it going in, I did not know/see how long the needle was, and although I'd been warned about "the worst headache of your life" if the spinal didn't go well, that was thankfully not my issue. My legs and lower body felt really numb, really fast. So fast, that I felt like perhaps I was having a low blood sugar during the section, but I'd brought my meter into the operating room, had Mr. L. help me test, and I was 116, up from a steady 87-95 range all morning as we waited to be admitted to the OR.
2. Felt nauseous twice during the c-section, and both times the anesthesiologist waved an alcohol swab under my nose, which took the feeling away. The second time I felt like I would throw up, I asked "Can I get more alcohol over here?" My OB laughed (from the other side of the sheet that was held up by my chest so I didn't have to watch my own c-section occur) and said that was the first time she'd heard a patient ask for alcohol during a section.
3. Mr. L was in scrubs at my side during the whole thing, and brought a camera into the OR. I could feel pushing and pressing on my lower half during the section, and smelled something being cauterized, but when a nurse asked if I wanted to know what was being pushed, pulled, or cauterized during the procedure, I declined. Not typical for me, but I didn't need that much detail right then. However, the OB announced that I had "beautiful Fallopian tubes."
4. At one point, the OB yelled out "I see a head!" and I asked "Then why don't I hear any crying?" Within moments, we heard Baby L crying out loud. Healthy lungs, he has.
5. Someone held the baby up and showed the Mr. and I, but we'd requested that the baby be cleaned off before being handed over to Mr. L. The baby was weighed and measured, and given Apgar scores of 8 and 9. This made me proud. My boy did well on his Apgars! He's going to totally rock his SATs. You just watch.
6. Mr. L. held the baby and I took pictures as the OB reconstructed my nether regions ("We're putting the uterus back where it belongs!"). Near the end, two people in the OR (there were something like six or seven people in the room during the section) rolled me around and onto the bed that wheeled me out of the OR. Still felt numbness in my legs, but otherwise, I felt fine and lucid and good.
7. Looking at the baby, I saw immediately that he has my chin, big lips (that kid is going to be a great maker-outer, I said) and other characteristics that made me realize he looks a lot like me. I stopped worrying about whether I'd been carrying the wrong embryo post-IVF transfer at that point.
7. I don't want to say having a c-section was a piece of cake, but with morphine, torredol, two IVs and plenty of percoset and motrin afterwards, this procedure went (knock wood) fine for me. Having had a more extensive abodominal operation in the past gives me something to compare it to, and believe me, the section went very well.
8. In the recovery room, I called my mother from the bed as Mr. L called his mother and sister (all of whom were waiting in the hospital's lobby) and we simultaneously told our family about our newest arrival. My mother couldn't believe I was calling immediately after the section and started crying. She was very relieved that both the baby and I were doing just fine.
9. The baby was put under a warmer next to my bed because his temperature was a bit low, and I got to hold him on my chest and tried to breastfeed him (he latched but didn't get the hang of sucking. Much more on this to come in a future post). This is called skin-to-skin contact and it's really good for bonding with mom and baby. It's pretty fun--the baby chilling out on my skin is something I really enjoy.
10. Eventually, I was wheeled up to my hospital room, the Mister's parents and sister came to visit, and my parents visited after my mother went and bought many outfits for our newest arrival. My brother, who lives several states away, called all afternoon and at the end of the day, knocked and walked into my hospital room with a huge bouquet of flowers, having decided to make the four-hour drive to meet his new nephew. I was thrilled we had all this family around to meet our new boy.
11. Kept trying with the breast feeding thing. I'm still trying. In fact, feeding this kid has become my latest focus. Honestly, in the last week and a half, I feel like I've gone to college and become a scholar on the different techniques and tricks of feeding a newborn. One who needs to be supplemented because of too much weight loss. One who has a mother who overthinks and researches links between cow's milk and diabetes and wonders about nipple confusion and finger feeding and number of hours (minutes?) since the last feeding. Oh, and breast pumps. I've honestly never spent so much time topless as I have in the past ten days.
More to come, I promise.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Welcome to the World, Baby L!
Lyrehca and Mister Lyrehca are thrilled to annouce the birth of their new son, Baby L.
Baby L arrived at 11:24 am on Monday, April 9, 2007. He weighed seven pounds, nine ounces, and was 20.5 inches long. He is super gorgeous--all the nurses and doctors here keep saying so (and admit, when I ask, that they don't say that about everyone's baby).
His post-pregnancy blood sugars, an indication of Mom's blood sugars, were in the 60s that day. Anything considered low for a baby is under 40. Mom was thrilled that his blood sugars were normal. (Mom's blood sugars were in the 80s and 90s throughout the procedure, and she felt relatively good after having a c-section. Two days later, she's rocking the painkillers as needed, and still feeling relatively good.)
Baby L is super cute, is sort of getting the hang of breast feeding, and sleeps a bunch (for now).
We're headed home from the hospital on Friday. No idea when I'll have more time to write, but just wanted to update things. Thanks to everyone for all your good wishes, and I'll update when I can.
Baby L arrived at 11:24 am on Monday, April 9, 2007. He weighed seven pounds, nine ounces, and was 20.5 inches long. He is super gorgeous--all the nurses and doctors here keep saying so (and admit, when I ask, that they don't say that about everyone's baby).
His post-pregnancy blood sugars, an indication of Mom's blood sugars, were in the 60s that day. Anything considered low for a baby is under 40. Mom was thrilled that his blood sugars were normal. (Mom's blood sugars were in the 80s and 90s throughout the procedure, and she felt relatively good after having a c-section. Two days later, she's rocking the painkillers as needed, and still feeling relatively good.)
Baby L is super cute, is sort of getting the hang of breast feeding, and sleeps a bunch (for now).
We're headed home from the hospital on Friday. No idea when I'll have more time to write, but just wanted to update things. Thanks to everyone for all your good wishes, and I'll update when I can.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Erev C-Section
In a mere 12 hours, I'm scheduled for a c-section.
I spent all day today filing baby stuff, assorted doctor's notes and paraphernalia, and nesting at home with Mr. L.
People called or emailed all weekend to wish us luck.
I got a little teary tonight. What if something goes wrong? This is the last night the Mister and I will be just two. What if I ate too much chocolate, and therefore too much caffeine, throughout this pregnancy and it affects the baby's mental state?
(I was going to write up a post about everything I've learned being pregnant and type 1 and dealing with infertility, but didn't get around to it. It'll come in the future.)
And yet, coming home on Friday from my last day of work, I allowed myself to think "What if everything is really wonderful and the baby is perfect and everything is really great?"
It made me really happy and teary in a good way.
We likely won't have any access to a laptop in the hospital, and while we have a big email list of people to announce our news to (via a friend of Mr. L's) tomorrow, I just don't know when I'll get to update again. A few of you are on the big email list, so you may know our news before I can update here. If Mr. L leaves the hospital for a quick visit home midweek, I may ask him to update things.
In any case, I'll update when I can. Stay tuned.
I spent all day today filing baby stuff, assorted doctor's notes and paraphernalia, and nesting at home with Mr. L.
People called or emailed all weekend to wish us luck.
I got a little teary tonight. What if something goes wrong? This is the last night the Mister and I will be just two. What if I ate too much chocolate, and therefore too much caffeine, throughout this pregnancy and it affects the baby's mental state?
(I was going to write up a post about everything I've learned being pregnant and type 1 and dealing with infertility, but didn't get around to it. It'll come in the future.)
And yet, coming home on Friday from my last day of work, I allowed myself to think "What if everything is really wonderful and the baby is perfect and everything is really great?"
It made me really happy and teary in a good way.
We likely won't have any access to a laptop in the hospital, and while we have a big email list of people to announce our news to (via a friend of Mr. L's) tomorrow, I just don't know when I'll get to update again. A few of you are on the big email list, so you may know our news before I can update here. If Mr. L leaves the hospital for a quick visit home midweek, I may ask him to update things.
In any case, I'll update when I can. Stay tuned.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Week 37: 37 Thoughts
1. The women in my office had a shower-like lunch for me yesterday. It was low-key, but they bought the baby some duck-themed books and bath stuff. Seeing as I haven't had a shower at all, I was touched by it.
2. The Mister came to work the other day and helped me clean out my desk. I have a lot of books and personal items on my desk that I wanted to bring home.
3. Am trying to get some work done (I'm actually leaving the office just before the next busy period) and float between trying to be productive so I can get through the day, and cleaning out years of old emails and files on my computer to make sure I can access what I need after I'm no longer working at that computer/desk every day.
4. Yesterday, after the nice shower, I got a few go-Lyrehca emails. One was from a former freelancer I trained and who left my publication to move to New York and picked up a lot of freelance work right away. She told me that working for me was like being in a Master's program and that she quickly got promoted because of the quality of her work.
5. The second was from one of the magazines I freelance for and recently told I was going on a hiatus to have the kid. The magazine has a new section editor who was told by the editor I had worked for that I was a great worker, and that whenever I was ready to get back into freelancing for them after the baby's arrival, to please get in touch.
6. I love getting emails or getting praise like that.
7. At work itself, one of my coworkers told me she was going to really miss me while I was out, since she considered me the glue of the magazine.
8. Honestly, I don't hear a lot of stuff like that, particularly from the top boss at the place. Our priorities (mine and the top boss's) are pretty far apart, and as a result, we don't interact all that much. Plus, I sense that our styles are pretty different.
9. Beyond work glory, I've determined, perhaps weeks or months later than most, that pregnancy can be really hard on the body. Particularly in the final weeks.
10. As Mr. Lyrehca pointed out, some women vomit for three months straight, and I didn't have any of that.
11. But in the last week alone, my ankles and legs have gotten bigger, I've dealt with the sheer annoyance and pain of a hemorrhoid, and two days ago, my left kneecap developed this sharp arthritis-like pain (I suspect this is what arthritis feels like).
12. It hurts to go up and down stairs, and it's only on one knee, in the front. (Knee pain in the back would indicate a scary blood clot, and I'm told this isn't a clot).
13. One the first day, two Tylenol did nothing for the knee pain, but yesterday and today, it seems to have lessened in intensity a bit.
14. Due to Passover, I've eaten more of carb-heavy foods over the past few days.
15. My blood sugars have reflected this, despite my efforts to take more boluses to cover them.
16. I fear this is packing weight on the kid for the last week in utero.
17. Sigh.
18. Today I've scheduled the last of my prenatal massages at lunchtime. I'm deeply looking forward to this.
19. Friday is my last day at work.
20. We still need to buy a bassinet mattress for next week.
21. My home office is still cluttered, and it's hard to get motivated to declutter it before next week.
22. I've been up for a few hours (it's nearly 6am) even though my blood sugar was 89 when I went to bed and 94 when I awoke around 4ish.
23. It took several days, after weeks of prodding from Mr. L., but I finally pulled together a huge list of email addresses for everyone we want to announce our baby news to next week.
24. I try not to think about what we'll do should something (knock wood) not go anything but well.
25. I wonder what the baby is going to look like.
26. I wonder if I'll ever feel well-rested again over the next year.
26. I wonder if my assorted health complaints will somehow disappear next week, or if I'm living with cankles, hemorrhoids and left knee pain for the duration.
27. I have thought that despite all my worrying about the baby's potential for health problems (diabetes! autism! ADHD! Something else I haven't thought of yet), that having the baby in utero has kept things limited. Once the baby is here, the reality will be staring me (crying, hungry, tired, in need of a diaper change) straight in the face.
28. It was snowing here yesterday. On April 4.
29. All the clothes I've bought for Baby L. aren't snow-ready.
30. Once the baby arrives, I suspect my mother will go into baby overload and buy the kid whatever cold-weather gear it may still need by the second week in April.
31. I lay in bed earlier tonight and noted the lack of abdominal pain I was feeling, to try to remember how it feels next week when I'm recovering from another abdominal scar and more pain.
32. I totally forgot about this and this deserves a post of its own, but Laurie at A Chronic Dose mentioned me on her blog last week as someone who always makes her think. I need to write more about this at length, particuarly because this post isn't much more than a brain dump, but thanks (again!) to Laurie.
33. I turned 37 last week. It was sort of a low-key birthday in light of where I am in the pregnancy.
34. I just felt the baby kick.
35. It's very reassuring when this happens.
36. I have another hour before I need to start readying for work.
37. I think I'll head back to bed while I still can.
2. The Mister came to work the other day and helped me clean out my desk. I have a lot of books and personal items on my desk that I wanted to bring home.
3. Am trying to get some work done (I'm actually leaving the office just before the next busy period) and float between trying to be productive so I can get through the day, and cleaning out years of old emails and files on my computer to make sure I can access what I need after I'm no longer working at that computer/desk every day.
4. Yesterday, after the nice shower, I got a few go-Lyrehca emails. One was from a former freelancer I trained and who left my publication to move to New York and picked up a lot of freelance work right away. She told me that working for me was like being in a Master's program and that she quickly got promoted because of the quality of her work.
5. The second was from one of the magazines I freelance for and recently told I was going on a hiatus to have the kid. The magazine has a new section editor who was told by the editor I had worked for that I was a great worker, and that whenever I was ready to get back into freelancing for them after the baby's arrival, to please get in touch.
6. I love getting emails or getting praise like that.
7. At work itself, one of my coworkers told me she was going to really miss me while I was out, since she considered me the glue of the magazine.
8. Honestly, I don't hear a lot of stuff like that, particularly from the top boss at the place. Our priorities (mine and the top boss's) are pretty far apart, and as a result, we don't interact all that much. Plus, I sense that our styles are pretty different.
9. Beyond work glory, I've determined, perhaps weeks or months later than most, that pregnancy can be really hard on the body. Particularly in the final weeks.
10. As Mr. Lyrehca pointed out, some women vomit for three months straight, and I didn't have any of that.
11. But in the last week alone, my ankles and legs have gotten bigger, I've dealt with the sheer annoyance and pain of a hemorrhoid, and two days ago, my left kneecap developed this sharp arthritis-like pain (I suspect this is what arthritis feels like).
12. It hurts to go up and down stairs, and it's only on one knee, in the front. (Knee pain in the back would indicate a scary blood clot, and I'm told this isn't a clot).
13. One the first day, two Tylenol did nothing for the knee pain, but yesterday and today, it seems to have lessened in intensity a bit.
14. Due to Passover, I've eaten more of carb-heavy foods over the past few days.
15. My blood sugars have reflected this, despite my efforts to take more boluses to cover them.
16. I fear this is packing weight on the kid for the last week in utero.
17. Sigh.
18. Today I've scheduled the last of my prenatal massages at lunchtime. I'm deeply looking forward to this.
19. Friday is my last day at work.
20. We still need to buy a bassinet mattress for next week.
21. My home office is still cluttered, and it's hard to get motivated to declutter it before next week.
22. I've been up for a few hours (it's nearly 6am) even though my blood sugar was 89 when I went to bed and 94 when I awoke around 4ish.
23. It took several days, after weeks of prodding from Mr. L., but I finally pulled together a huge list of email addresses for everyone we want to announce our baby news to next week.
24. I try not to think about what we'll do should something (knock wood) not go anything but well.
25. I wonder what the baby is going to look like.
26. I wonder if I'll ever feel well-rested again over the next year.
26. I wonder if my assorted health complaints will somehow disappear next week, or if I'm living with cankles, hemorrhoids and left knee pain for the duration.
27. I have thought that despite all my worrying about the baby's potential for health problems (diabetes! autism! ADHD! Something else I haven't thought of yet), that having the baby in utero has kept things limited. Once the baby is here, the reality will be staring me (crying, hungry, tired, in need of a diaper change) straight in the face.
28. It was snowing here yesterday. On April 4.
29. All the clothes I've bought for Baby L. aren't snow-ready.
30. Once the baby arrives, I suspect my mother will go into baby overload and buy the kid whatever cold-weather gear it may still need by the second week in April.
31. I lay in bed earlier tonight and noted the lack of abdominal pain I was feeling, to try to remember how it feels next week when I'm recovering from another abdominal scar and more pain.
32. I totally forgot about this and this deserves a post of its own, but Laurie at A Chronic Dose mentioned me on her blog last week as someone who always makes her think. I need to write more about this at length, particuarly because this post isn't much more than a brain dump, but thanks (again!) to Laurie.
33. I turned 37 last week. It was sort of a low-key birthday in light of where I am in the pregnancy.
34. I just felt the baby kick.
35. It's very reassuring when this happens.
36. I have another hour before I need to start readying for work.
37. I think I'll head back to bed while I still can.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Week 36: Never A Dull Moment
Thanks for all your comments about cord blood. Who knew I had so many anonymous readers? For the record, we were pretty much agreed on actually banking the blood, but just were overwhelmed with where to actually do so. I'm happy to report we went with the company that gave us the best deal, which has actually been in business the longest of the bigger cord blood banks, and got the stuff Fed Exed to us on Saturday so we're good to go. (In the interest of not giving anyone free publicity, if you ever want to know which bank we went with, feel free to email me).
You'd think this would have been the biggest news of week 36, but nope. I had a bunch of doc's appointments on Friday, where everything seemed to look fine, then trotted back to the hospital on Saturday just to get checked out again. Thankfully, all was fine, but it was a tense few hours there.
Friday, saw Kind Endo and High Risk Ob, and had the usual batch of scans (kid's heartrate, uterine contractions, amnio fluid check, etc.). The kid seemed a bit quieter than usual, the tech said. She had me turn on my side and sip cold water to try to perk the kid up, and after a bit of sipping and turning, declared the kid active and good. The heart rate zipped along where it usually does. All seemed fine.
Kind Endo told me that the few bad nights I've been having (woke up one night with a blood sugar of 30. THIRTY! Then went to the kitchen and ate three packs of LifeSavers and a good amount of Edy's ice cream. Then calculated how many extra carbs I'd consumed and took a huge bolus of insulin to bring it down. Then slept for two hours to test and see myself at 180, so I bolused again and actually woke up around 150, then bolused again, ate my oatmeal breakfast, and was 111 an hour post breakfast. Haven't had a night that bad since before I got pregnant) were likely the result of the placenta starting to break down (THIS IS NORMAL AND HAPPENS TO EVERY PREGNANT WOMAN, D OR NOT) and therefore I probably needed less insulin overnight. You're telling me! (In contrast, one of the past few nights I marveled how I slept through the night uninterrupted, and my blood sugars were 85 when I went to bed and 91 when I got up. A good night's sleep! Priceless! It nearly makes me want to pay full price for a continuous glucose monitor to ensure this happens all the time. But one major life change at a time.)
Back at the doc's office on Friday, High Risk OB told me the specifics of when to actually arrive at the hospital, what to do if I think I'm in labor before the official c-section date, and gave me a Hep B test. I forget the specifics of this, but essentially, all pregnant women are tested to see if they have the strep hep B virus in them (which is common) and if you do, and plan to give birth vaginally and closer to 40 weeks than I am, the docs give you some kind of medicine to prevent the baby to be born with the same strep Hep virus. I'm probably not getting the specifics of this correct, since the c-section next week pretty much rules out this will be a problem for Baby L, but I got the (vaginal swab) anyway. The test apparently also includes a rectal swab, but, as I pointed out to High Risk OB, I have had major tush pain this week with the appearance of a totally annoying hemmorhoid thanks to being swollen, in the final weeks of pregnancy, and just cranky all around. She saw what I was talking about ("Please don't touch it! This thing is a literal pain in the ass.") and agreed to forego the rectal swab. Woo hoo!
What else? The cankles are at an all-time high. I gained another six pounds over the past two weeks and it's clear to all the medical types I see that it's all fluid retention. Even one of the techs at the ATU who scans me and the kid weekly pointed out that my face was rounder than usual. The cankles include the full calf treatment, i.e., swollen all around. I'm pleased the recent weeks have been a bit warmer than usual, so I've been wearing fashionable sandals from Clarke's (they look like stylish Birkenstocks) just to give my feet a respite from the agony of pulling on socks. Both my doctor brother and my actual doctors recommended getting compression tights, or stockings, which are supposed to squeeze the fluid out of your ankles and back up into the veins (or is it the arteries?) of your legs where it belongs, but since I've been dealing with bloat for many weeks now, what's another week of fluid retention? Besides, the idea of pulling on tight knee high stockings, as helpful as they're supposed to be, just sounds awful. I can tough it out.
So on Saturday, I had that roller coaster blood sugar thing through the night, but woke up and had my usual oatmeal breakfast. After breakfast, though, I felt a litle queasy and nauseous, but we still went to Temple as we were being honored in the service that morning for our upcoming new arrival. This is not something we typically do on Saturday mornings, and the Mister really wanted to go, so we went. It was OK, but after Temple, we came home and I wanted to just lie on my side and rest. The Mister kept asking if I could feel the baby kick, and while I felt a few twinges while sitting in Temple, I didn't feel a lot more. I drank something and tried to feel some movement, but then picked up one of my pregnancy books and read that nausea and constipation were signs of possible early labor, and decided to call the High Risk OB's office to get a second opinion.
As it turns out, my own OB was on call that day, and thought things sounded like I'd had a bad night because of my up and down blood sugars the previous night and maybe that was making me feel queasy. However, since nothing's ever taken for granted with type 1 diabetic moms, she thought I should come to the hospital for monitoring, even though the monitoring I'd just had 24 hours before looked fine. So the Mister and I canceled our lunch plans for Saturday and I actually packed a hospital bag as if I might give birth that day, and we drove to the hospital.
(A shout out to formerly pregnant people, particularly the diabetics: What'd you bring to the hospital that was crucial? What was a waste of packing space?) I've been meaning for awhile to pre-pack the bag, particularly because I know the c-section date and all, but just did it as we were getting ready to go. I found a list of things to pack on diabeticmommy.com's bulletin boards, so I just referred to that as I threw stuff in a bag. I had way more pharmaceutical-type stuff (i.e., my own pump supplies and peanut butter crackers for treating reactions and toiletries) than probably most women have (no CDs or calming music for the birthing room for me), but then again, I knew I might not use any of it today.
We drove to the hospital, went up to Labor & Delivery (where I've been before, and where Mister L. saw for the first time last week when we took baby classes and got a tour of the place), but it took some time for a nurse to finally come out and take us into a room for monitoring. We'd heard things were crowded in L&D, but sitting in the waiting area, there weren't a lot of people there at all. "What's the point of rushing in here to be monitored if we're just sitting here?" Mister L. griped. Finally, a nurse brought me in to the same room I'd been in a few weeks before when I got extra fetal monitoring during a routine visit.
This time, however, I was asked to strip down to a Johnny, take off my underwear, and I noticed that I was lying on a large bed-covered pad that I suspect would blot up any fluids that might come out of me (like amniotic) should I go into labor on the table. Oy. In the meantime, they hooked me up to the machine and wouldn't you know, Baby L's heartrate was totally fine and I felt the kid kick around and move like the acrobat it typically is. It seems to me that Baby L, like most of us, likes to sleep in, and was probably just chilling while I was wondering why I hadn't felt much movement all morning long.
So we hung out there for awhile, and I noticed that my blood sugar had been holding pretty steady at 68 since we left the house, despite my drinking juice. I told the nurse on call that if I had to have a c-section that day, 68 was a good number to be at, but after we saw the kid's heart rate and movement were fine on the monitor, I tested again at 51 and was given permission to treat my own blood sugar. Those peanut butter crackers never tasted so good. Finally, my own OB came in to tell us that the kid looked terrific, but since my cankles did not, she wanted to take some blood and test me for pre-eclampsia. Pre-e is a sign of super high blood pressure, but my numbers have always been totally normal (the day before, I rang in at 103 over 60, a personal favorite). So High Risk OB allowed us to go grab some lunch and then told us to come back to Labor and Delivery and she'd give us the blood results and if they were fine, we were free to go.
Which is pretty much what happened. About 90 minutes later, we were sitting back in the Labor & Delivery waiting room when High Risk OB came out and said "You have no sign of pre-eclampsia; your blood results were better than mine" and said we could finally leave. The Mister and I came home, called the appropriate family members to tell them everything was fine, and promptly napped for the rest of the afternoon.
You'd think I'd get a break on Sunday as a day of rest, but inexplicably, my pump gave me a weird error message in the middle of a bolus and reset itself back to the factory settings. Which is annoying, because 1., my basal rates are all over the map and 2., the pump's a few years out of warranty. When I called Minimed (which is what the company was called when I first got the pump, so that gives you diabetics a sense of how long this thing's been going), I was told the error message came from some electrical static and that I just needed to reset my settings myself. Pleased that my pump didn't appear to conk out an effing WEEK before giving birth, I pulled up my basal rates as best I could (since they change all the time, I don't keep a running list of what they are, but let me be the first to tell you this is a good idea) and will call the Endo's office as soon as it opens today to get the right basal amounts set ASAP. Since I had another night of highs, along with waking up all sweaty circa 5am, I suspect that the basals are still pretty wonky and will get things sorted out today.
And here we are back on Monday, with a week to go before the scheduled C. And yet, with the assorted medical events of this weekend behind me, I don't even feel annoyed or surprised that anything (the hosptial visit, the lack of fetal movement on Saturday morning, the pump resetting itself) actually happened. It's more like par for the course for me. React and move on. Just like treating a high or low blood sugar. Do what you have to do and move on. I am also not going to worry too much about my blood sugars creeping up with these overnights, and how the kid was measuring 6.5 pounds on Tuesday and how I was pleased that I hope the kid will be under nine pounds at birth, and that I hope these wonky nights won't pack more weight on the kid and make it larger than it needs to be. No, I'm not going to worry about that at all.
It's never a dull moment around here. And this is all BEFORE the kid even arrives.
You'd think this would have been the biggest news of week 36, but nope. I had a bunch of doc's appointments on Friday, where everything seemed to look fine, then trotted back to the hospital on Saturday just to get checked out again. Thankfully, all was fine, but it was a tense few hours there.
Friday, saw Kind Endo and High Risk Ob, and had the usual batch of scans (kid's heartrate, uterine contractions, amnio fluid check, etc.). The kid seemed a bit quieter than usual, the tech said. She had me turn on my side and sip cold water to try to perk the kid up, and after a bit of sipping and turning, declared the kid active and good. The heart rate zipped along where it usually does. All seemed fine.
Kind Endo told me that the few bad nights I've been having (woke up one night with a blood sugar of 30. THIRTY! Then went to the kitchen and ate three packs of LifeSavers and a good amount of Edy's ice cream. Then calculated how many extra carbs I'd consumed and took a huge bolus of insulin to bring it down. Then slept for two hours to test and see myself at 180, so I bolused again and actually woke up around 150, then bolused again, ate my oatmeal breakfast, and was 111 an hour post breakfast. Haven't had a night that bad since before I got pregnant) were likely the result of the placenta starting to break down (THIS IS NORMAL AND HAPPENS TO EVERY PREGNANT WOMAN, D OR NOT) and therefore I probably needed less insulin overnight. You're telling me! (In contrast, one of the past few nights I marveled how I slept through the night uninterrupted, and my blood sugars were 85 when I went to bed and 91 when I got up. A good night's sleep! Priceless! It nearly makes me want to pay full price for a continuous glucose monitor to ensure this happens all the time. But one major life change at a time.)
Back at the doc's office on Friday, High Risk OB told me the specifics of when to actually arrive at the hospital, what to do if I think I'm in labor before the official c-section date, and gave me a Hep B test. I forget the specifics of this, but essentially, all pregnant women are tested to see if they have the strep hep B virus in them (which is common) and if you do, and plan to give birth vaginally and closer to 40 weeks than I am, the docs give you some kind of medicine to prevent the baby to be born with the same strep Hep virus. I'm probably not getting the specifics of this correct, since the c-section next week pretty much rules out this will be a problem for Baby L, but I got the (vaginal swab) anyway. The test apparently also includes a rectal swab, but, as I pointed out to High Risk OB, I have had major tush pain this week with the appearance of a totally annoying hemmorhoid thanks to being swollen, in the final weeks of pregnancy, and just cranky all around. She saw what I was talking about ("Please don't touch it! This thing is a literal pain in the ass.") and agreed to forego the rectal swab. Woo hoo!
What else? The cankles are at an all-time high. I gained another six pounds over the past two weeks and it's clear to all the medical types I see that it's all fluid retention. Even one of the techs at the ATU who scans me and the kid weekly pointed out that my face was rounder than usual. The cankles include the full calf treatment, i.e., swollen all around. I'm pleased the recent weeks have been a bit warmer than usual, so I've been wearing fashionable sandals from Clarke's (they look like stylish Birkenstocks) just to give my feet a respite from the agony of pulling on socks. Both my doctor brother and my actual doctors recommended getting compression tights, or stockings, which are supposed to squeeze the fluid out of your ankles and back up into the veins (or is it the arteries?) of your legs where it belongs, but since I've been dealing with bloat for many weeks now, what's another week of fluid retention? Besides, the idea of pulling on tight knee high stockings, as helpful as they're supposed to be, just sounds awful. I can tough it out.
So on Saturday, I had that roller coaster blood sugar thing through the night, but woke up and had my usual oatmeal breakfast. After breakfast, though, I felt a litle queasy and nauseous, but we still went to Temple as we were being honored in the service that morning for our upcoming new arrival. This is not something we typically do on Saturday mornings, and the Mister really wanted to go, so we went. It was OK, but after Temple, we came home and I wanted to just lie on my side and rest. The Mister kept asking if I could feel the baby kick, and while I felt a few twinges while sitting in Temple, I didn't feel a lot more. I drank something and tried to feel some movement, but then picked up one of my pregnancy books and read that nausea and constipation were signs of possible early labor, and decided to call the High Risk OB's office to get a second opinion.
As it turns out, my own OB was on call that day, and thought things sounded like I'd had a bad night because of my up and down blood sugars the previous night and maybe that was making me feel queasy. However, since nothing's ever taken for granted with type 1 diabetic moms, she thought I should come to the hospital for monitoring, even though the monitoring I'd just had 24 hours before looked fine. So the Mister and I canceled our lunch plans for Saturday and I actually packed a hospital bag as if I might give birth that day, and we drove to the hospital.
(A shout out to formerly pregnant people, particularly the diabetics: What'd you bring to the hospital that was crucial? What was a waste of packing space?) I've been meaning for awhile to pre-pack the bag, particularly because I know the c-section date and all, but just did it as we were getting ready to go. I found a list of things to pack on diabeticmommy.com's bulletin boards, so I just referred to that as I threw stuff in a bag. I had way more pharmaceutical-type stuff (i.e., my own pump supplies and peanut butter crackers for treating reactions and toiletries) than probably most women have (no CDs or calming music for the birthing room for me), but then again, I knew I might not use any of it today.
We drove to the hospital, went up to Labor & Delivery (where I've been before, and where Mister L. saw for the first time last week when we took baby classes and got a tour of the place), but it took some time for a nurse to finally come out and take us into a room for monitoring. We'd heard things were crowded in L&D, but sitting in the waiting area, there weren't a lot of people there at all. "What's the point of rushing in here to be monitored if we're just sitting here?" Mister L. griped. Finally, a nurse brought me in to the same room I'd been in a few weeks before when I got extra fetal monitoring during a routine visit.
This time, however, I was asked to strip down to a Johnny, take off my underwear, and I noticed that I was lying on a large bed-covered pad that I suspect would blot up any fluids that might come out of me (like amniotic) should I go into labor on the table. Oy. In the meantime, they hooked me up to the machine and wouldn't you know, Baby L's heartrate was totally fine and I felt the kid kick around and move like the acrobat it typically is. It seems to me that Baby L, like most of us, likes to sleep in, and was probably just chilling while I was wondering why I hadn't felt much movement all morning long.
So we hung out there for awhile, and I noticed that my blood sugar had been holding pretty steady at 68 since we left the house, despite my drinking juice. I told the nurse on call that if I had to have a c-section that day, 68 was a good number to be at, but after we saw the kid's heart rate and movement were fine on the monitor, I tested again at 51 and was given permission to treat my own blood sugar. Those peanut butter crackers never tasted so good. Finally, my own OB came in to tell us that the kid looked terrific, but since my cankles did not, she wanted to take some blood and test me for pre-eclampsia. Pre-e is a sign of super high blood pressure, but my numbers have always been totally normal (the day before, I rang in at 103 over 60, a personal favorite). So High Risk OB allowed us to go grab some lunch and then told us to come back to Labor and Delivery and she'd give us the blood results and if they were fine, we were free to go.
Which is pretty much what happened. About 90 minutes later, we were sitting back in the Labor & Delivery waiting room when High Risk OB came out and said "You have no sign of pre-eclampsia; your blood results were better than mine" and said we could finally leave. The Mister and I came home, called the appropriate family members to tell them everything was fine, and promptly napped for the rest of the afternoon.
You'd think I'd get a break on Sunday as a day of rest, but inexplicably, my pump gave me a weird error message in the middle of a bolus and reset itself back to the factory settings. Which is annoying, because 1., my basal rates are all over the map and 2., the pump's a few years out of warranty. When I called Minimed (which is what the company was called when I first got the pump, so that gives you diabetics a sense of how long this thing's been going), I was told the error message came from some electrical static and that I just needed to reset my settings myself. Pleased that my pump didn't appear to conk out an effing WEEK before giving birth, I pulled up my basal rates as best I could (since they change all the time, I don't keep a running list of what they are, but let me be the first to tell you this is a good idea) and will call the Endo's office as soon as it opens today to get the right basal amounts set ASAP. Since I had another night of highs, along with waking up all sweaty circa 5am, I suspect that the basals are still pretty wonky and will get things sorted out today.
And here we are back on Monday, with a week to go before the scheduled C. And yet, with the assorted medical events of this weekend behind me, I don't even feel annoyed or surprised that anything (the hosptial visit, the lack of fetal movement on Saturday morning, the pump resetting itself) actually happened. It's more like par for the course for me. React and move on. Just like treating a high or low blood sugar. Do what you have to do and move on. I am also not going to worry too much about my blood sugars creeping up with these overnights, and how the kid was measuring 6.5 pounds on Tuesday and how I was pleased that I hope the kid will be under nine pounds at birth, and that I hope these wonky nights won't pack more weight on the kid and make it larger than it needs to be. No, I'm not going to worry about that at all.
It's never a dull moment around here. And this is all BEFORE the kid even arrives.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Cord Blood Conundrum
Many things to write about, but the latest is the conundrum over whether to have our kid's cord blood saved when the kid is born.
The deal is this: docs can collect cord blood and save the cells to use down the road to fight against catastrophic health conditions. There are a handful of very obscure conditions that cord blood cells currently help, but the idea is that down the road, conditions I'm more familiar with, like type 1 diabetes, may get helped with the cells collected from cord blood.
Problem is, it's expensive up front to collect the cells, approx. $1500-2000 to collect it, and about $125 a year to store it.
The bigger issue, in my mind, is that there are plenty of cord blood banks out there, and I've talked to three this week. They are all very strong with the marketing blather and make me wonder why they're all such hard sellers.
With the diabetes and the cancer scare a few years ago, I have the kind of medical history that makes me want to do this. The Mister agrees.
Then again, there's the argument that if your kid has, say, leukemia, the kid wouldn't be best treated with its own cord blood, because those cells may have the same leukemia-producing genes that caused the problem in the first place. But if a sibiling has banked cells, the leukemia child could use the cells of the sibling's banked cord blood to try to fix the problem.
The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends banking with a public bank, where there's no cost and like any blood bank, you don't get your own blood back if you need it. But I don't know much about public cord blood banking, and I don't know if it's necessarily available where we are right now. Another take on the situation is here.
But how do we pick one place over another? Cost? Well, the cheapest place we found is in Florida, where the sales rep I talked to told me how secure their facility is in light of natural disasters like hurricanes. Do we go closer to home? Well, the instate place near us brags about how their facility is in state, but does that really matter in this electronic, courier-driven age? And the third place that our doctor friends recommend is the most expensive, but also does research on site. But it's not like they wouldn't share the results of that research if they stumble on the cure for diabetes, right? So why would I care who is doing the most research on it?
Does it matter if a company is publicly-owned or not? Been in business the longest?
Oy. And I do research for a living.
Of course, of these three, two have discounts that extend til tomorrow, because it's the end of the month, and like buying a car, I suspect these places have monthly quotas to fill.
And our OB and the two pediatricians we met with weren't much help. All told us they think it's a lot of money and nothing's really been proven yet. We're willing to pay the money (Dude, we just spent thousands last year on health care and infertility costs. What's another two grand?), but how to pick where to spend it?
SO ANYONE who's decided to bank their kid's cord blood--tell me your thoughts. How'd you pick the place you went with?
The deal is this: docs can collect cord blood and save the cells to use down the road to fight against catastrophic health conditions. There are a handful of very obscure conditions that cord blood cells currently help, but the idea is that down the road, conditions I'm more familiar with, like type 1 diabetes, may get helped with the cells collected from cord blood.
Problem is, it's expensive up front to collect the cells, approx. $1500-2000 to collect it, and about $125 a year to store it.
The bigger issue, in my mind, is that there are plenty of cord blood banks out there, and I've talked to three this week. They are all very strong with the marketing blather and make me wonder why they're all such hard sellers.
With the diabetes and the cancer scare a few years ago, I have the kind of medical history that makes me want to do this. The Mister agrees.
Then again, there's the argument that if your kid has, say, leukemia, the kid wouldn't be best treated with its own cord blood, because those cells may have the same leukemia-producing genes that caused the problem in the first place. But if a sibiling has banked cells, the leukemia child could use the cells of the sibling's banked cord blood to try to fix the problem.
The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends banking with a public bank, where there's no cost and like any blood bank, you don't get your own blood back if you need it. But I don't know much about public cord blood banking, and I don't know if it's necessarily available where we are right now. Another take on the situation is here.
But how do we pick one place over another? Cost? Well, the cheapest place we found is in Florida, where the sales rep I talked to told me how secure their facility is in light of natural disasters like hurricanes. Do we go closer to home? Well, the instate place near us brags about how their facility is in state, but does that really matter in this electronic, courier-driven age? And the third place that our doctor friends recommend is the most expensive, but also does research on site. But it's not like they wouldn't share the results of that research if they stumble on the cure for diabetes, right? So why would I care who is doing the most research on it?
Does it matter if a company is publicly-owned or not? Been in business the longest?
Oy. And I do research for a living.
Of course, of these three, two have discounts that extend til tomorrow, because it's the end of the month, and like buying a car, I suspect these places have monthly quotas to fill.
And our OB and the two pediatricians we met with weren't much help. All told us they think it's a lot of money and nothing's really been proven yet. We're willing to pay the money (Dude, we just spent thousands last year on health care and infertility costs. What's another two grand?), but how to pick where to spend it?
SO ANYONE who's decided to bank their kid's cord blood--tell me your thoughts. How'd you pick the place you went with?
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Good God, It's Week 35
I have the rest of the week off from work because I supposedly didn't use a few vacation days from 2006 that need to be used by the end of March. (Um, OK, I'd bet that's incorrect, but who am I to argue with the HR woman at work? Enforced days off--sign me up!).
As a result, I spent yesterday doing some nice things:
1. Got a pedicure so my feet finally are worth baring in public. (The pedicurist took pity on me as I contorted around my belly to take my socks off. It was like running a marathon. She gave me a fancy smoothing serum on my callouses-of-death heels without charging me extra.)
2. Got a prenatal massage that felt terrific. I highly recommend these if you are pregnant and achy. The therapist was sweet, did a hardcore Swedish, and knew her way around the pregnant form. ("God bless you, honey, you weren't kidding when you said your ankles and legs were swollen.")
3. Bought some baby clothes.
That last one actually felt the most indulgent. All along, people have asked if I'm excited, if the Mister is excited, about the baby's arrival. Honestly, excitement isn't the word I'd use. Cautious is much more like it.
"We're taking everything one day at a time," I say. "Knock wood, the baby will be healthy and happy."
The whole religious tradition of not tempting fate, not having any baby showers, heck, being casual about where we registered, has really seeped into my being. The one time I mentioned to Mister Lyrehca, "Oh, it should be a quick 20 minute visit" was the heart rate scan a few weeks back where I was sent to Labor & Delivery for two more hours of fetal heart rate monitoring.
Truly, I'm trying to not take anything for granted.
But I had time to shop a bit yesterday, and was close to some baby apparel stores. So I figured I'd scan the sales racks and see what was there. Besides, as of yesterday, the baby had only two items of clothing, and both were gift onesies that would be too big for a newborn to come home from the hospital in. (Unless the kid comes out of the hospital the size of a three-to-six month old. But I digress).
God, baby clothes are cute.
Two credit card charges later, Baby Lyrehca is set to be a very well-dressed kid. Onesies. T-shirts. Socks. A soft hat. All in colorful shades and hip patterns.
I came home and showed Mister Lyrehca, who typically balks at updating his wardrobe from high school. (He proudly wore a Members Only jacket in recent years despite my taunting him; thankfully, friends of ours also mocked him and he finally got rid of it). Even he thought the items were cute and fun. I'm trying not to think of what it'll be like to have to change these clothes because they're covered with spit up and other bodily fluids. Instead, I'm trying to picture the oohs and ahs Baby L will get for being just so fashionable. So baby-stylish. So great.
But you know I can't just relax. I asked both stores what their return policies were. Just in case.
Also saw my Eye Doc yesterday for a follow-up visit.
Apparently, the part of my eyes could be considered "severe non-proliferative retinopathy" while other parts are plain old "proliferative retinopathy." However, since last October's laser treatments, they've been "quiescent" or "quiet." This means that while there is new blood vessel growth in the back of my eyes leftover from whenever, the laser stopped some of it in its tracks. The laser did not stop all of it, because I only had limited laser treatment. The idea is that the limited laser treatment may stop everything forever from growing, but if it doesn't, I'd need more.
"Why didn't you just laser everything you saw?" I asked.
Because that may have affected your vision, Eye Doc said. The idea is to do as little treatment as possible to minimize vision changes while getting the desired effect of stopping the new blood vessel growth in its tracks. The whole time, I might add, my actual eyesight has remained unchanged (i.e., I see things just fine) and the optometrist who analyzes the vision in the front of my eyes told me yesterday that everything looked "brilliant." (I liked her immediately.)
I was more annoyed at being told I was "proliferative" versus "severe non-proliferative." These are semantics most people don't even understand, and even Eye Doc seemed to think the difference was a casual one, but I said that should I ever actually qualify to get life insurance, the difference in my eye damage might make me uninsurable.
"Actually, you're less likely to have eye problems because you've had the laser," Eye Doc said. "That makes you a better candidate."
That seemed like a glib way to summarize things. Eye Doc, who I used to enjoy chatting with during my visits, and I are becoming a bit less chatty. I still have to go back there in three months for a follow-up, though she tells me I can aspire to have visits every four months, then every five, and then maybe taper them back to twice a year.
Mister Lyrehca and I are are pulling together our tax paperwork and receipts to get things filed before the baby's scheduled arrival. I save every single receipt and itemize whatever I can because I freelance on the side. Our medical expenses, we've figured out, amounted to more than ten percent of our combined income last year. According to our accountant, anything more than two percent of your total income is deductible. While this past year included fertility expenses that are not a typical year for us, hearing that my eye doc appointments may cut back from four to two a year didn't exactly thrill me. It's still way more than the general population pays to have its eyes checked.
And frankly, eye appointments are just one of a myriad of things. Parking at the hospitals where I get checked out. Gas for those trips. Filling prescriptions. Mileage. The time spent waiting.
Although I passed a milestone on Tuesday that should hopefully keep us from racking up another round of medical bills: babies born after week 35 don't automatically go to the hospital's Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. I hope Baby L. never needs to see the inside of a NICU ever.
But if it does, my kid will be the best-dressed one there.
As a result, I spent yesterday doing some nice things:
1. Got a pedicure so my feet finally are worth baring in public. (The pedicurist took pity on me as I contorted around my belly to take my socks off. It was like running a marathon. She gave me a fancy smoothing serum on my callouses-of-death heels without charging me extra.)
2. Got a prenatal massage that felt terrific. I highly recommend these if you are pregnant and achy. The therapist was sweet, did a hardcore Swedish, and knew her way around the pregnant form. ("God bless you, honey, you weren't kidding when you said your ankles and legs were swollen.")
3. Bought some baby clothes.
That last one actually felt the most indulgent. All along, people have asked if I'm excited, if the Mister is excited, about the baby's arrival. Honestly, excitement isn't the word I'd use. Cautious is much more like it.
"We're taking everything one day at a time," I say. "Knock wood, the baby will be healthy and happy."
The whole religious tradition of not tempting fate, not having any baby showers, heck, being casual about where we registered, has really seeped into my being. The one time I mentioned to Mister Lyrehca, "Oh, it should be a quick 20 minute visit" was the heart rate scan a few weeks back where I was sent to Labor & Delivery for two more hours of fetal heart rate monitoring.
Truly, I'm trying to not take anything for granted.
But I had time to shop a bit yesterday, and was close to some baby apparel stores. So I figured I'd scan the sales racks and see what was there. Besides, as of yesterday, the baby had only two items of clothing, and both were gift onesies that would be too big for a newborn to come home from the hospital in. (Unless the kid comes out of the hospital the size of a three-to-six month old. But I digress).
God, baby clothes are cute.
Two credit card charges later, Baby Lyrehca is set to be a very well-dressed kid. Onesies. T-shirts. Socks. A soft hat. All in colorful shades and hip patterns.
I came home and showed Mister Lyrehca, who typically balks at updating his wardrobe from high school. (He proudly wore a Members Only jacket in recent years despite my taunting him; thankfully, friends of ours also mocked him and he finally got rid of it). Even he thought the items were cute and fun. I'm trying not to think of what it'll be like to have to change these clothes because they're covered with spit up and other bodily fluids. Instead, I'm trying to picture the oohs and ahs Baby L will get for being just so fashionable. So baby-stylish. So great.
But you know I can't just relax. I asked both stores what their return policies were. Just in case.
Also saw my Eye Doc yesterday for a follow-up visit.
Apparently, the part of my eyes could be considered "severe non-proliferative retinopathy" while other parts are plain old "proliferative retinopathy." However, since last October's laser treatments, they've been "quiescent" or "quiet." This means that while there is new blood vessel growth in the back of my eyes leftover from whenever, the laser stopped some of it in its tracks. The laser did not stop all of it, because I only had limited laser treatment. The idea is that the limited laser treatment may stop everything forever from growing, but if it doesn't, I'd need more.
"Why didn't you just laser everything you saw?" I asked.
Because that may have affected your vision, Eye Doc said. The idea is to do as little treatment as possible to minimize vision changes while getting the desired effect of stopping the new blood vessel growth in its tracks. The whole time, I might add, my actual eyesight has remained unchanged (i.e., I see things just fine) and the optometrist who analyzes the vision in the front of my eyes told me yesterday that everything looked "brilliant." (I liked her immediately.)
I was more annoyed at being told I was "proliferative" versus "severe non-proliferative." These are semantics most people don't even understand, and even Eye Doc seemed to think the difference was a casual one, but I said that should I ever actually qualify to get life insurance, the difference in my eye damage might make me uninsurable.
"Actually, you're less likely to have eye problems because you've had the laser," Eye Doc said. "That makes you a better candidate."
That seemed like a glib way to summarize things. Eye Doc, who I used to enjoy chatting with during my visits, and I are becoming a bit less chatty. I still have to go back there in three months for a follow-up, though she tells me I can aspire to have visits every four months, then every five, and then maybe taper them back to twice a year.
Mister Lyrehca and I are are pulling together our tax paperwork and receipts to get things filed before the baby's scheduled arrival. I save every single receipt and itemize whatever I can because I freelance on the side. Our medical expenses, we've figured out, amounted to more than ten percent of our combined income last year. According to our accountant, anything more than two percent of your total income is deductible. While this past year included fertility expenses that are not a typical year for us, hearing that my eye doc appointments may cut back from four to two a year didn't exactly thrill me. It's still way more than the general population pays to have its eyes checked.
And frankly, eye appointments are just one of a myriad of things. Parking at the hospitals where I get checked out. Gas for those trips. Filling prescriptions. Mileage. The time spent waiting.
Although I passed a milestone on Tuesday that should hopefully keep us from racking up another round of medical bills: babies born after week 35 don't automatically go to the hospital's Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. I hope Baby L. never needs to see the inside of a NICU ever.
But if it does, my kid will be the best-dressed one there.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Week 34: Time's Marching On
Back with the appointments on Friday. Another baby heart rate check, along with visits to Kind Endo and High Risk OB.
All were uneventful, thankfully.
The kid's heart rate ebbed and flowed, but no one blinked when there was another slight drop (around 110 this time) but bounced right up. Kind Endo looked at my meter's blood sugar numbers and declared them "actually quite good." (Although waking up with a 110 and being told it's "high" annoys me. I just think about the women who gave birth pre-pump, pre-Humulog, and pre-blood sugar testing and think, 110 ain't so bad.) I've been amazed myself at how great my blood sugars have been (yesterday's 7-day meter average was 107, for God's sake. Kind Endo told me that the insulin resistance seen during late pregnancy somehow prevents the bouncing highs after meals. Of course, I regularly take more than 100 units of insulin a day, but hey, who's counting? My numbers look great!
High Risk OB's nurse met with me afterward, and we're sort of at the point where I don't have any serious questions, I've gotten used to the odd side effects of pregnancy like insomnia and cankles and left side rib pain (the kid's leg keeps poking me there) and we're just sort of waiting this thing out.
Had lunch with the fabulous Serenity late last week, which was great.
Work's finally slowed to a crawl, so I'm taking the time to clean out years of emails and to compile the list of people we want to announce our baby news to. This, sadly, is taking up a ton of time (the email clearing, not the list compiling).
Going through a year of receipts this weekend to figure out how much to do f0r freelancer tax deductions. Every year I wonder why we don't just do this on some online tax program and every year I think "I need to upgrade my laptop so I can keep these files on my own computer and not on the work-provided laptop Mr. Lyrehca uses at home." But buying a laptop is another round of details I just don't want to get into right now. The same thing with upgrading my six-year-old Minimed 508 pump--too many details to figure out, and since the pump is still essentially working fine (save for the fast clock and the batteries that wear out more frequently than they ever did before), I figure I can wait til after the kid's arrival to upgrade.
Note to anyone: got any suggestions for either a new laptop or a new pump model I should consider? For the laptop, I've been on a PC for years, but like the idea of a Mac if I knew I could transfer files and have software available without any hassles. And for the pump, I like a good solid belt clip (like the 508) and since I still calculate my boluses manually (i.e., I do the math in my head and don't care about the whole Insulin On Board element), I just want something that my insurance will cover, isn't going to break down regularly, and is as easy to use as the 508.
I did meet with pump reps from Minimed and Animas last summer, pre-getting-pregnant, and actually liked the food database on the latest Animas (the 1250, maybe?), but realized the Animas had more buttons to push and got sort of lazy about upgrading, since the IVF cycle took up a lot of brainspace, and I figured, "hey, the 508 still works, why bother upgrading now?"
At the same time, I find Minimed's insistence on using a proprietary reservoir arrogant, and still have plenty of 508 reservoirs that would work in an Animas or Cozmo. I didn't look into the Cozmo because I erroneously thought I'd have to change meters (I use a One Touch Ultra and ain't giving it up) and thought it was bulkier than my current 508.
So let your opinions be known, either for laptop or insulin pump suggestions. It'll help pass the time as I wait for the kid's arrival.
All were uneventful, thankfully.
The kid's heart rate ebbed and flowed, but no one blinked when there was another slight drop (around 110 this time) but bounced right up. Kind Endo looked at my meter's blood sugar numbers and declared them "actually quite good." (Although waking up with a 110 and being told it's "high" annoys me. I just think about the women who gave birth pre-pump, pre-Humulog, and pre-blood sugar testing and think, 110 ain't so bad.) I've been amazed myself at how great my blood sugars have been (yesterday's 7-day meter average was 107, for God's sake. Kind Endo told me that the insulin resistance seen during late pregnancy somehow prevents the bouncing highs after meals. Of course, I regularly take more than 100 units of insulin a day, but hey, who's counting? My numbers look great!
High Risk OB's nurse met with me afterward, and we're sort of at the point where I don't have any serious questions, I've gotten used to the odd side effects of pregnancy like insomnia and cankles and left side rib pain (the kid's leg keeps poking me there) and we're just sort of waiting this thing out.
Had lunch with the fabulous Serenity late last week, which was great.
Work's finally slowed to a crawl, so I'm taking the time to clean out years of emails and to compile the list of people we want to announce our baby news to. This, sadly, is taking up a ton of time (the email clearing, not the list compiling).
Going through a year of receipts this weekend to figure out how much to do f0r freelancer tax deductions. Every year I wonder why we don't just do this on some online tax program and every year I think "I need to upgrade my laptop so I can keep these files on my own computer and not on the work-provided laptop Mr. Lyrehca uses at home." But buying a laptop is another round of details I just don't want to get into right now. The same thing with upgrading my six-year-old Minimed 508 pump--too many details to figure out, and since the pump is still essentially working fine (save for the fast clock and the batteries that wear out more frequently than they ever did before), I figure I can wait til after the kid's arrival to upgrade.
Note to anyone: got any suggestions for either a new laptop or a new pump model I should consider? For the laptop, I've been on a PC for years, but like the idea of a Mac if I knew I could transfer files and have software available without any hassles. And for the pump, I like a good solid belt clip (like the 508) and since I still calculate my boluses manually (i.e., I do the math in my head and don't care about the whole Insulin On Board element), I just want something that my insurance will cover, isn't going to break down regularly, and is as easy to use as the 508.
I did meet with pump reps from Minimed and Animas last summer, pre-getting-pregnant, and actually liked the food database on the latest Animas (the 1250, maybe?), but realized the Animas had more buttons to push and got sort of lazy about upgrading, since the IVF cycle took up a lot of brainspace, and I figured, "hey, the 508 still works, why bother upgrading now?"
At the same time, I find Minimed's insistence on using a proprietary reservoir arrogant, and still have plenty of 508 reservoirs that would work in an Animas or Cozmo. I didn't look into the Cozmo because I erroneously thought I'd have to change meters (I use a One Touch Ultra and ain't giving it up) and thought it was bulkier than my current 508.
So let your opinions be known, either for laptop or insulin pump suggestions. It'll help pass the time as I wait for the kid's arrival.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Random Thoughts on Health and Money
Just coming out of a busy work period, my last deadline week before I leave to have the kid.
Even writing that makes me wonder if I'm jinxing myself. What if something happens to the baby and there is no baby? What if the kid comes early and I spend weeks in a NICU?
I started going through all my email at work and home yesterday to figure out who should get the announcement we'll send out when the kid will be born (knock wood, that all goes well). And I thought, I know a lot of people. Mr. L. knows a lot of people. We would have to tell a lot of people some terrible news if there's a problem with the baby.
Since last Friday's events, at first I was surprised by the comments I was getting, saying how calm I was during something I thought was an overreaction on some doctors' parts. But then I thought, "I'm no doctor. What do I know about infant heart rates? Am I too blase for my own good?"
As I explained to the Mister, I'm so used to hearing about health catastrophes and things not working right in my own body that I'm not so worried when I hear about something else. When I was first told I had an avocado-sized tumor growing in my abdomen, my first reaction was, "Oh, I'm sure you're just feeling scar tissue from years of taking shots in my stomach." My current Kind Endo, who first felt something odd during my first visit with her a few years ago, told me later she was scared by what she felt, and was amazed that I seemed to take the news in stride. But here I am, years later, wondering how I'll deal with a problem if there's a problem with Baby L.
Baby L. has continued to kick me on a regular basis, and kicky=active=good in the minds of my docs and the techs who give me ultrasounds weekly. But does active mean the kid will have ADHD? Could the kid become autistic? If I feed the kid a bit of formula because I hear breastfeeding is tough, despite my intention to breastfeed the kid as much as I can because it's supposed to be healthier, will that doom the kid to developing type 1 or type 2 down the road?
And again, will the kid be as large as the last reading said it would be, and will that be OK?
Besides the general fear about the kid's happiness and health, I look around and think, I'm supposed to get all this done before April 9? Still reorganizing after the painters left last week, still trying to figure out what bedding to buy for the crib, what to do about cord blood banking (important for the kid's future health needs, or an untested, unproven, expensive waste of time?), and wondering if the current insomnia I have (only got up at 5am today, so things are getting a bit better) will be welcome in a few weeks when I'm up hearing someone scream and cry and moan (and no, not Mister L, though it very easily could be) and I can't figure out how to calm the yeller down.
And unrelated, yesterday I talked to a coworker about a new project she's launching at work. She wanted feedback on how the people in my department would play into her project, and I instinctively thought, "Oh, I could totally do that work freelance from home." I told her as such, but knew to say, "Listen, let me get back in touch with you after my maternity leave is up and maybe we can work something out." She just came back to work after a year off having twins, and has had some good insight about being a new mom and not going back to work and the financial element of that, and dealing with putting your kids in day care and returning to work for both personal and financial reasons. But as always, my instinct was to get excited about a new work project and think about how I might make extra cash doing it. And yet, I know the deadline hours and long commute make me think I'd be crazy to try to return to work full time, but being there full time makes me privy to new assignments and inside scoop. I always wonder about how my new role as a mom is going to interact with my longtime role as an employee and freelancer always looking for new work and income streams.
Even writing that makes me wonder if I'm jinxing myself. What if something happens to the baby and there is no baby? What if the kid comes early and I spend weeks in a NICU?
I started going through all my email at work and home yesterday to figure out who should get the announcement we'll send out when the kid will be born (knock wood, that all goes well). And I thought, I know a lot of people. Mr. L. knows a lot of people. We would have to tell a lot of people some terrible news if there's a problem with the baby.
Since last Friday's events, at first I was surprised by the comments I was getting, saying how calm I was during something I thought was an overreaction on some doctors' parts. But then I thought, "I'm no doctor. What do I know about infant heart rates? Am I too blase for my own good?"
As I explained to the Mister, I'm so used to hearing about health catastrophes and things not working right in my own body that I'm not so worried when I hear about something else. When I was first told I had an avocado-sized tumor growing in my abdomen, my first reaction was, "Oh, I'm sure you're just feeling scar tissue from years of taking shots in my stomach." My current Kind Endo, who first felt something odd during my first visit with her a few years ago, told me later she was scared by what she felt, and was amazed that I seemed to take the news in stride. But here I am, years later, wondering how I'll deal with a problem if there's a problem with Baby L.
Baby L. has continued to kick me on a regular basis, and kicky=active=good in the minds of my docs and the techs who give me ultrasounds weekly. But does active mean the kid will have ADHD? Could the kid become autistic? If I feed the kid a bit of formula because I hear breastfeeding is tough, despite my intention to breastfeed the kid as much as I can because it's supposed to be healthier, will that doom the kid to developing type 1 or type 2 down the road?
And again, will the kid be as large as the last reading said it would be, and will that be OK?
Besides the general fear about the kid's happiness and health, I look around and think, I'm supposed to get all this done before April 9? Still reorganizing after the painters left last week, still trying to figure out what bedding to buy for the crib, what to do about cord blood banking (important for the kid's future health needs, or an untested, unproven, expensive waste of time?), and wondering if the current insomnia I have (only got up at 5am today, so things are getting a bit better) will be welcome in a few weeks when I'm up hearing someone scream and cry and moan (and no, not Mister L, though it very easily could be) and I can't figure out how to calm the yeller down.
And unrelated, yesterday I talked to a coworker about a new project she's launching at work. She wanted feedback on how the people in my department would play into her project, and I instinctively thought, "Oh, I could totally do that work freelance from home." I told her as such, but knew to say, "Listen, let me get back in touch with you after my maternity leave is up and maybe we can work something out." She just came back to work after a year off having twins, and has had some good insight about being a new mom and not going back to work and the financial element of that, and dealing with putting your kids in day care and returning to work for both personal and financial reasons. But as always, my instinct was to get excited about a new work project and think about how I might make extra cash doing it. And yet, I know the deadline hours and long commute make me think I'd be crazy to try to return to work full time, but being there full time makes me privy to new assignments and inside scoop. I always wonder about how my new role as a mom is going to interact with my longtime role as an employee and freelancer always looking for new work and income streams.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Weeks 33.5 Update
A lot and yet not a lot has happened in the last week and a half.
Had another ATU (monitoring) appointment on Friday, where I go to the hospital and the kid is checked out for a heartbeat, amniotic fluid update, and that sort of thing. A bio-physical profile.
I'd thought this would be a quick-ish visit, as the last two I've had have been. Mr. L. didn't come with me to this appointment (and I'm now having them weekly). I was hooked up to a machine that checked the kid's heart rate and lay back for 20 minutes, watching the monitor as I'd forgotten to bring something to read (and the tech seemed to "forget" that I requested a magazine from the waiting room to tide me over.)
The kid's heartrate started out in the 140s, bounced up to the 150s, and I even saw 170 here and there. "These are all normal," Tech said before she left the room.
At one point, I'd started to doze off, and noticed the kid's heart rate dropped some. 115. 98. 110. Maybe the kid is dozing off, too, I thought. The numbers jumped back up to the 140 range again.
Thirty-five minutes later, I'm wondering why no one has come in to disconnect me after twenty minutes. Since I'm wearing a monitor strapped to my belly that's connected to the machine, I can't really get up myself.
I didn't see a call button anywhere, nor did I remember the number of the main ATU office. I saw a phone, and reached over as best I could to grab it. I called my OB's assistant, who is in the same hospital in a different office, and who made all the ATU appointments for me.
"Hi, it's (Lyrehca) calling from the ATU unit," I told Assistant. "I'm here alone and I've been in a room for almost 40 minutes and they seem to have forgotten about me. Would you call the office and let them know?"
"Oh my God, I'll call them right now," she said.
I watched the clock, and thought, "if no one comes in in five minutes, I'll just disconnect myself from the machine. The heartrate numbers have been printing out on a sheet of paper, so it's not like I'll lose data if I disconnect myself."
Three minutes later, a different tech walked in.
"I thought you forgot about me," I told her.
"We didn't forget about you," she said. "We're down the hall watching your numbers and sometimes we get backed up with other patients."
"OK," I said. "Can I get back to work now?" This Friday was nearing the end of my deadline week and while I went into work early that day to get some stuff done before the 10am appointment, I wanted to get back.
"Oh, no, you're not going to work," she said. "The baby had a deceleration and we need to send you to Labor and Delivery for a few hours."
"What?"
Apparently, the drop in the baby's heart rate, down to 98, is called a deceleration. It means that the kid's heart rate slowed down, and while it could mean something relatively harmless that the kid swam over and touched its own umbilical cord, it could also mean there was some other reason that was less than harmless. They wanted to watch me for a longer period of time in a bed in Labor and Delivery, where they had more beds, and that if they saw something distressing, they could delivery the baby early if they had to.
Um, huh?
"Are you kidding me? I might have to have the baby today?"
"It's possible, but it's also possible this is just a one-time thing. But we need to monitor you more closely to see if more decels are occuring."
I was a bit annoyed with this tech's matter of factness about this totally unexpected thing. I honestly felt like I was missing something.
"I don't even know where Labor and Delivery is. And does my OB know?"
"We just got off the phone with her. She's the one who is sending you there. It's on the tenth floor."
So I pulled out my cell and called both the OB and Mr. Lyrecha. The OB's assistant said she'd get the OB to call me right back, and called the Mister. He was alarmed.
"Should I come down to the hospital? Are you OK? Is the baby OK? What's happening?"
"Everything is fine," I said. "I'm just going to go to the Labor and Delivery floor and get checked out for another two hours or so. I feel fine, the baby is kicking a lot, and I will call you every hour with an update," I promised.
The the OB called me back, and explained that since I'm getting all this testing (weekly), that it's not uncommon to see something like this and that it could just be a one-time thing, but since I'm there, it was important to get further monitored for a few more hours. I mentioned my surprise again about expecting to just go back to work.
"You can return to work if you really want to, but you really should get checked out just to see what is going on."
So after I called my boss and told her what was going on (and she was very cool about saying "What can I do to make things move smoothly while you're out?" which I plan to say if I'm ever in a similar situation but reversed), I made my way up to the Labor and Delivery floor, where I'd never been before. (We have a hospital tour skedded in a few weeks). I was checked in, given a bracelet ("Are you admitting me?" I asked. "Not just yet, but this is standard procedure," I was told. "Do you have a pediatrician," I was asked. The Mister and I had just decided which of the two we interviewed we'll go with, so I gave that doc's name and practice. No idea what her phone number is.)
A nice calm nurse with curly blond hair came into the lobby to get me. Labor and Delivery has heavy locked doors and you have to be approved to even get past them. This reassured me for security reasons.
"I'm a little surprised I'm here," I told Calm Nurse. "I thought I'd be here for a quick 20 minute visit downstairs.
Calm Nurse repeated a lot of what I'd already heard, and led me to a hospital bed in the Recovery area. As in, the woman in the bed next to me had had a c-section that morning and was the proud mom of a new son.
I gave a urine sample, asked if I had to wear a Johnnie (thankfully, no), and got strapped to another heart rate machine. Calm Nurse told me she'd stay with me for a bit as she asked me medical history questions. Tonsils out? Yep. Wisdom teeth pulled? Yep, two. A few surgeries here and there, yes. Diabetes for 29 years, check. "Oh, you're type 1," she said. Oh yeah.
"But so far, the pregnancy's been uneventful, except for swollen ankles," I said. (My blood pressure both in the ATU and in L&D was normal, so still no sign of danger with the cankles.)
Calm Nurse was able to get me a stack of magazines to read (the new Marie Claire, nice) and when I tested my blood sugar and found it a bit low, she brought me some graham crackers and peanut butter and a nice big glass of ice water. It was just what I needed.
"It's like a restaurant here," I said. "A bit more like camping," she said, showing me a styrofoam cup filled with a scoop of peanut butter and a plastic spoon. I had two of the four packs graham crackers (20 grams of carbs) with a bit of peanut butter to treat a 64. A half hour later, when the 64 hadn't budged, I ate two more packs of grahams and left the unit around 120, which is a bit higher than I wanted to be, but at least out of a lowish zone.
And I alternated between skimming Marie Claire and keeping an eye on the monitor. Again, 150s and 160s on the heart rate. A jump up to 200 or so when I hoisted myself up to eat the graham crackers. Whenever I moved, the monitor would move slightly and sometimes it lost contact with the baby's heart rate for a few seconds. Always, a green, yellow or red light would indicate how strong a signal the machine would get from the baby. If the baby swam out of the way, it would lose contact with the machine and the numbers would disappear from the screen. This happened at one point and the number than came back was a 94. Oy.
After about an hour, the Calm Nurse came back and said she didn't see anything that was worrisome to her, and that the OB on call, who was in touch with my own OB, said I was free to go.
What about the 200 and the 94 reading?
"The 200, like the 94, was momentary, and likely happened when you reached for the food," she said. "This baby likes graham crackers and peanut butter. It was very active while you were eating."
"Good," I said. "I plan to eat a lot of both of them in my time." (I eat peanut butter every day for breakfast, and will miss it if I have to avoid giving it to the kid while breastfeeding. Not sure how that will play out.)
The 94 was accompanied by a time on the monitor where the numbers stopped recording for a few seconds, and the nurse told me she thought it was just because the baby had been moving around. A more gradual and longer drop in the heart rate would have indicated a more serious problem, but there was no sign of that.
I called Mr. L. and reported things. He was nervous, he told me. "The nurse I have here is very reassuring," I promised. "Do you want to talk to her?"
He declined, but continued to ask questions. After I hung up, Calm Nurse told me it was sweet he was asking so many questions. "He sounds like a great guy," she said. "He is," I said.
"You're free to go," she said again, and since I felt fine and the baby felt fine, I said I was going back to work. And after a lunch at the hospital and calling my mother (since Mr. L told me he'd told his sister about what happened, who then told her mother, which annoyed me, but I figured I'd need to let my mother know since we're nothing but not a worrisome bunch).
By then, I was calm and feeling like there was a lot of excitement over something that turned out to be nothing unusual. I can understand wanting to be safe rather than sorry, but honestly, how often do these decelerations happen in a non-diabetic pregnancy?
While that was probably the biggest news of the past week and a half, the previous week's ATU visit showed that the kid, at 32 weeks, was measuring about two weeks ahead, at around a 73 percentile. I was alarmed, since the kid had been closer to a 60th percentile four weeks before and wasn't quite so ahead.
"Is this because of the diabetes," I asked. "Am I dooming the kid to having a large abdomen and a lifetime of type 2 itself?"
I was reassured that a two-week ahead gain was considered normal, and if the kid was measuring ten weeks ahead at week 30, that was something to be more concerned about. Besides, the Mister and I are both tall, and as much as I hate it, we both have our share of abdomnal fat. The Mister is definitely apple-shaped, and the only time I've had a flat stomach was when I was five, prediagnosis with type 1. Still, it annoys me that the kid is measuring a few weeks ahead on a growth chart.
And in completely other yet still-baby-related news, we had several rooms in our house painted over the last week. This meant that I moved out to my parents' place for a week, which I must admit was a much closer commute to work, calmer (the phone never rang for me, I had a bathroom and bedroom all to myself, and would read a lot at night instead of dealing with the TV, the Mister's favorite leisuretime activity), and sort of mellow. While I saw the Mister on the weekend when we all went out for dinner, and talked to him several times a day, it was a bit like being on a working vacation.
Now I'm back home and while we have some great colors in a number of rooms now, we still need to put all the paraphernalia like bills and papers and tchotckes all back where they belong. Not quite as restful as it was being at my parents place.
And to top things off, some late-assigned freelance work means I need to do work (from home, but still work) later on today to get it all done by Monday. This is likely the last bit of freelance I'll take on for awhile, as I'd like to chill as much as possible at home before the kid's arrival. Decluttering papers on my own time, despite the lack of payment for it, is more appealing than freelance work. It's like the calm before the impending storm.
Oh, nearly forgot, but Scott at Scott's Web Log had tagged me for a meme about seven things. I've got a bit of Meme Fatigue, and frankly barely have time to post updates like this as it is. So while I'm always honored when someone cites me on their blog, forgive me for passing on it right now.
Had another ATU (monitoring) appointment on Friday, where I go to the hospital and the kid is checked out for a heartbeat, amniotic fluid update, and that sort of thing. A bio-physical profile.
I'd thought this would be a quick-ish visit, as the last two I've had have been. Mr. L. didn't come with me to this appointment (and I'm now having them weekly). I was hooked up to a machine that checked the kid's heart rate and lay back for 20 minutes, watching the monitor as I'd forgotten to bring something to read (and the tech seemed to "forget" that I requested a magazine from the waiting room to tide me over.)
The kid's heartrate started out in the 140s, bounced up to the 150s, and I even saw 170 here and there. "These are all normal," Tech said before she left the room.
At one point, I'd started to doze off, and noticed the kid's heart rate dropped some. 115. 98. 110. Maybe the kid is dozing off, too, I thought. The numbers jumped back up to the 140 range again.
Thirty-five minutes later, I'm wondering why no one has come in to disconnect me after twenty minutes. Since I'm wearing a monitor strapped to my belly that's connected to the machine, I can't really get up myself.
I didn't see a call button anywhere, nor did I remember the number of the main ATU office. I saw a phone, and reached over as best I could to grab it. I called my OB's assistant, who is in the same hospital in a different office, and who made all the ATU appointments for me.
"Hi, it's (Lyrehca) calling from the ATU unit," I told Assistant. "I'm here alone and I've been in a room for almost 40 minutes and they seem to have forgotten about me. Would you call the office and let them know?"
"Oh my God, I'll call them right now," she said.
I watched the clock, and thought, "if no one comes in in five minutes, I'll just disconnect myself from the machine. The heartrate numbers have been printing out on a sheet of paper, so it's not like I'll lose data if I disconnect myself."
Three minutes later, a different tech walked in.
"I thought you forgot about me," I told her.
"We didn't forget about you," she said. "We're down the hall watching your numbers and sometimes we get backed up with other patients."
"OK," I said. "Can I get back to work now?" This Friday was nearing the end of my deadline week and while I went into work early that day to get some stuff done before the 10am appointment, I wanted to get back.
"Oh, no, you're not going to work," she said. "The baby had a deceleration and we need to send you to Labor and Delivery for a few hours."
"What?"
Apparently, the drop in the baby's heart rate, down to 98, is called a deceleration. It means that the kid's heart rate slowed down, and while it could mean something relatively harmless that the kid swam over and touched its own umbilical cord, it could also mean there was some other reason that was less than harmless. They wanted to watch me for a longer period of time in a bed in Labor and Delivery, where they had more beds, and that if they saw something distressing, they could delivery the baby early if they had to.
Um, huh?
"Are you kidding me? I might have to have the baby today?"
"It's possible, but it's also possible this is just a one-time thing. But we need to monitor you more closely to see if more decels are occuring."
I was a bit annoyed with this tech's matter of factness about this totally unexpected thing. I honestly felt like I was missing something.
"I don't even know where Labor and Delivery is. And does my OB know?"
"We just got off the phone with her. She's the one who is sending you there. It's on the tenth floor."
So I pulled out my cell and called both the OB and Mr. Lyrecha. The OB's assistant said she'd get the OB to call me right back, and called the Mister. He was alarmed.
"Should I come down to the hospital? Are you OK? Is the baby OK? What's happening?"
"Everything is fine," I said. "I'm just going to go to the Labor and Delivery floor and get checked out for another two hours or so. I feel fine, the baby is kicking a lot, and I will call you every hour with an update," I promised.
The the OB called me back, and explained that since I'm getting all this testing (weekly), that it's not uncommon to see something like this and that it could just be a one-time thing, but since I'm there, it was important to get further monitored for a few more hours. I mentioned my surprise again about expecting to just go back to work.
"You can return to work if you really want to, but you really should get checked out just to see what is going on."
So after I called my boss and told her what was going on (and she was very cool about saying "What can I do to make things move smoothly while you're out?" which I plan to say if I'm ever in a similar situation but reversed), I made my way up to the Labor and Delivery floor, where I'd never been before. (We have a hospital tour skedded in a few weeks). I was checked in, given a bracelet ("Are you admitting me?" I asked. "Not just yet, but this is standard procedure," I was told. "Do you have a pediatrician," I was asked. The Mister and I had just decided which of the two we interviewed we'll go with, so I gave that doc's name and practice. No idea what her phone number is.)
A nice calm nurse with curly blond hair came into the lobby to get me. Labor and Delivery has heavy locked doors and you have to be approved to even get past them. This reassured me for security reasons.
"I'm a little surprised I'm here," I told Calm Nurse. "I thought I'd be here for a quick 20 minute visit downstairs.
Calm Nurse repeated a lot of what I'd already heard, and led me to a hospital bed in the Recovery area. As in, the woman in the bed next to me had had a c-section that morning and was the proud mom of a new son.
I gave a urine sample, asked if I had to wear a Johnnie (thankfully, no), and got strapped to another heart rate machine. Calm Nurse told me she'd stay with me for a bit as she asked me medical history questions. Tonsils out? Yep. Wisdom teeth pulled? Yep, two. A few surgeries here and there, yes. Diabetes for 29 years, check. "Oh, you're type 1," she said. Oh yeah.
"But so far, the pregnancy's been uneventful, except for swollen ankles," I said. (My blood pressure both in the ATU and in L&D was normal, so still no sign of danger with the cankles.)
Calm Nurse was able to get me a stack of magazines to read (the new Marie Claire, nice) and when I tested my blood sugar and found it a bit low, she brought me some graham crackers and peanut butter and a nice big glass of ice water. It was just what I needed.
"It's like a restaurant here," I said. "A bit more like camping," she said, showing me a styrofoam cup filled with a scoop of peanut butter and a plastic spoon. I had two of the four packs graham crackers (20 grams of carbs) with a bit of peanut butter to treat a 64. A half hour later, when the 64 hadn't budged, I ate two more packs of grahams and left the unit around 120, which is a bit higher than I wanted to be, but at least out of a lowish zone.
And I alternated between skimming Marie Claire and keeping an eye on the monitor. Again, 150s and 160s on the heart rate. A jump up to 200 or so when I hoisted myself up to eat the graham crackers. Whenever I moved, the monitor would move slightly and sometimes it lost contact with the baby's heart rate for a few seconds. Always, a green, yellow or red light would indicate how strong a signal the machine would get from the baby. If the baby swam out of the way, it would lose contact with the machine and the numbers would disappear from the screen. This happened at one point and the number than came back was a 94. Oy.
After about an hour, the Calm Nurse came back and said she didn't see anything that was worrisome to her, and that the OB on call, who was in touch with my own OB, said I was free to go.
What about the 200 and the 94 reading?
"The 200, like the 94, was momentary, and likely happened when you reached for the food," she said. "This baby likes graham crackers and peanut butter. It was very active while you were eating."
"Good," I said. "I plan to eat a lot of both of them in my time." (I eat peanut butter every day for breakfast, and will miss it if I have to avoid giving it to the kid while breastfeeding. Not sure how that will play out.)
The 94 was accompanied by a time on the monitor where the numbers stopped recording for a few seconds, and the nurse told me she thought it was just because the baby had been moving around. A more gradual and longer drop in the heart rate would have indicated a more serious problem, but there was no sign of that.
I called Mr. L. and reported things. He was nervous, he told me. "The nurse I have here is very reassuring," I promised. "Do you want to talk to her?"
He declined, but continued to ask questions. After I hung up, Calm Nurse told me it was sweet he was asking so many questions. "He sounds like a great guy," she said. "He is," I said.
"You're free to go," she said again, and since I felt fine and the baby felt fine, I said I was going back to work. And after a lunch at the hospital and calling my mother (since Mr. L told me he'd told his sister about what happened, who then told her mother, which annoyed me, but I figured I'd need to let my mother know since we're nothing but not a worrisome bunch).
By then, I was calm and feeling like there was a lot of excitement over something that turned out to be nothing unusual. I can understand wanting to be safe rather than sorry, but honestly, how often do these decelerations happen in a non-diabetic pregnancy?
While that was probably the biggest news of the past week and a half, the previous week's ATU visit showed that the kid, at 32 weeks, was measuring about two weeks ahead, at around a 73 percentile. I was alarmed, since the kid had been closer to a 60th percentile four weeks before and wasn't quite so ahead.
"Is this because of the diabetes," I asked. "Am I dooming the kid to having a large abdomen and a lifetime of type 2 itself?"
I was reassured that a two-week ahead gain was considered normal, and if the kid was measuring ten weeks ahead at week 30, that was something to be more concerned about. Besides, the Mister and I are both tall, and as much as I hate it, we both have our share of abdomnal fat. The Mister is definitely apple-shaped, and the only time I've had a flat stomach was when I was five, prediagnosis with type 1. Still, it annoys me that the kid is measuring a few weeks ahead on a growth chart.
And in completely other yet still-baby-related news, we had several rooms in our house painted over the last week. This meant that I moved out to my parents' place for a week, which I must admit was a much closer commute to work, calmer (the phone never rang for me, I had a bathroom and bedroom all to myself, and would read a lot at night instead of dealing with the TV, the Mister's favorite leisuretime activity), and sort of mellow. While I saw the Mister on the weekend when we all went out for dinner, and talked to him several times a day, it was a bit like being on a working vacation.
Now I'm back home and while we have some great colors in a number of rooms now, we still need to put all the paraphernalia like bills and papers and tchotckes all back where they belong. Not quite as restful as it was being at my parents place.
And to top things off, some late-assigned freelance work means I need to do work (from home, but still work) later on today to get it all done by Monday. This is likely the last bit of freelance I'll take on for awhile, as I'd like to chill as much as possible at home before the kid's arrival. Decluttering papers on my own time, despite the lack of payment for it, is more appealing than freelance work. It's like the calm before the impending storm.
Oh, nearly forgot, but Scott at Scott's Web Log had tagged me for a meme about seven things. I've got a bit of Meme Fatigue, and frankly barely have time to post updates like this as it is. So while I'm always honored when someone cites me on their blog, forgive me for passing on it right now.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Week 32: 32 Things
1. I never seem to have time to post anymore. Today's 32 weeks of being pregnant. Hard to believe.
2. Went to New York City last weekend for a last hurrah as a woman with baby in utero, because who knows when I'll get back there again?
3. Stayed with my single girl pal and saw a bunch of friends; interestingly, most of them are still single or are dating and are in far different places in their lives than I am.
4. Met with one friend who is type 1, married, expecting, and due just a few days after me. She's not a close friend, but I wanted to chat and find out how the pregnancy has been going.
5. Interestingly, we obsess over different things: I haven't drunk diet Coke or eaten bacon for months, while she has both but gets up every hour, she says, to test her blood sugar in the middle of the night.
6. We were both the same blood sugar when we met for an early brunch on Sunday (she was 108, I was 110). She worried that her high-protein meal the night before was still affecting her sugar, while I pointed out that I'd drunk two glasses of skim milk an hour before I met her, and felt like my reading was nothing to worry about. (Pre-meals, the pregnancy magic numbers are supposed to be 60-99 before a meal).
7. I also had lunch with Violet of Pumplandia; it was great to meet a blogger IRL (in real life), plus, she schlepped across the city to meet me closer to the neighborhood I was staying in.
8. I walked so much more than I ever do at home, and my bloods reflected that.
9. Cankles require me to wear only one of two pairs of shoes (either sneakers or these patent leather black loafers I've owned for years), so when I walked a lot, I noticed my back and feet got more tired than they ever have pre-pregnancy.
10. While I will always love NYC, staying in my friend's tiny apartment and walking around everywhere made me appreciate the (relatively) spacious house I live in, the car I drive and park in the driveway (as opposed to the time I spent searching for a space on the streets of Manhattan, or the money I spent on parking in garages).
11. Also met with an editor friend who gives me a lot of freelance work. As a mom of three herself (and we're the same age), she told me not to take on any freelance work for at least the first 12 weeks, but promised me she'd always have work to give me when I wanted it. Very reassuring.
12. Unrelated to the NYC trip, I've spoken to two groups of journalism students at two nearby colleges (in Boston) within the last week. The teacher for the first group, a class on magazine writing, told me I really connected with the students, how engaged they were during the presentation, and that perhaps teaching was in my future. Interesting. I always like doing talks about careers in journalism, and wonder if I'll get to do them any more once I am a mom.
13. Back at work, I'm heading into the last stretch of deadlines for the last magazine issue before I go on pregnancy leave. When I allow myself to think about this , I wonder if I should feel more sad about leaving my job for at least 12 weeks, and likely permanently. (The hours, commute, and lack of high pay tilt the scale toward a permanent leave). On one hand, I completely see I'm about to enter a new chapter in my life. On the other hand, there are times when I really think I'm ready to leave this office behind without regrets. Back on the first hand, though, I worry about whether I'll ever find a magazine staff job ever again, as it was what I dreamed about doing when I was in college. On the other hand, knowing that I don't live in the city where the magazines I really like are actually based, is it time to give up the idea of being a magazine editor in favor of full time freelancing and new motherhood? And will I ever make enough money to feel really secure about what I do as a freelancer with a child?
14. On this tangent, when will I ever have time to finish my own book projects, since no one is paying me to write them until after they're written and sold to a publisher by an agent?
15. Clearly, I think more about my career than I do about being a new mother.
16. People asked me if the Mister and I are excited to be new parents. I think we're taking things day by day and while I think about how the months ahead will be filled with new experiences and challenges, and that when I'm up at 4 in the morning, it will likely be with the baby as my companion rather than the laptop, I'm not necessarily excited. Intrigued by what's to come, yes, but aware that I have no idea what it will be like.
17. To that extent, my mother has told me more than once that I have no idea how tired I'm going to be and that the Mister and I have no idea what's about to hit us.
18. I responded that we have a sense that it will be hard, and that there's a reason we didn't have children when we were in our 20s, (one of which is that we didn't know each other then, but I digress...) but that we're about to move forward and to stop thinking like it'll be all negative.
19. I'm now going to the hospital weekly for one visit or another. I have weekly ultrasounds at the ATU (antepartum testing unit) and Endo or High Risk OB visits every two weeks. By March's end, they become weekly.
20. Blood sugars are what they are. Not super tight every minute of the day, but not crazy, either.
21. I get another fetal measurement this Friday, but the measurement three weeks ago showed the kid was within normal ranges and not gaining extra weight because of anything diabetic-related.
22. Someone asked in my comments last post if my insulin requirements had increased. Oh yes. I now take about three times as much insulin a day as I did pre-pregnancy. My skinny sister in law asked if I could stop this by eating less, and I pointed out that her non-diabetic body did the same thing as mine, but since she didn't inject or pump insulin, she had no idea what her insulin needs are. It's quite normal to have insulin needs increase in the latter half of pregnancy.
23. As a result, I've taken to refilling just the reservoir of insulin in my pump, rather than change the infusion set, every time the pump runs low on insulin. I used to change both the set and fill the pump at the same time.
24. Just signed up for a new baby-new mom group that starts in May. A mom friend of mine urged me to sign up, as getting out of the house the first few weeks are crucial. It felt weird to sign up for it yesterday, but I wanted to get in before the class filled up. It starts May 9, when the kid should be five weeks old.
25. Our baby furniture, which we ordered weeks ago and were told would take 12 weeks to arrive, came in after four weeks. I told the store that we're superstitious Jews, and that as soon as the baby arrives and is healthy, my husband will come in, pay off the balance, and have the furniture delivered. In the meantime, just keep it in storage.
26. I've commented about this elsewhere, but typically, us Jews don't do anything to openly prepare for having a baby. It's seen as tempting fate. That means no baby showers, no preparing a nursery, no buying baby clothes on sale, until the kid is actually here and healthy. I've only been to one baby shower that I can remember, and quite tragically, that baby turned out to be stillborn.
27. As a result, while we've been told to register and have actually done so, I've been pretty quiet about the details. And while other relatives have passed on a few baby items, they're either stashed in my car trunk or in the basement of our house.
28. We're hiring a painter this week to paint the baby's room, but I just want to close the door and not do anything else until after the baby arrives.
29. I haven't ordered crib bedding yet. Or curtains. Or any of that stuff. I finally called yesterday and learned that the day care we're going to go with has two openings for the time we want, and that we need to enroll this week if we want a spot. I've also been slow in lining up a baby nurse, which everyone tells me is crucial to do.
30. I apologize it's taken me so long to get to this point (and I already emailed her my thanks), but Serenity sent me a very cute gift yesterday as the winner of her "Name my IVF cycle title" on her blog. (I suggested "Now with More Uterus," which is very appropriate for her particular medical issue.) She ordered a onesie and cap from this store, a place I've always liked (and I again wonder if I'm tempting fate by even writing about it here. The Jewish guilt/schtick runs deep.)
31. I've suffered from an annoying cold over the past week and a half, ranging from copious sneezing and nasal goop to raspy coughing, to my current dry sore throat and larynigitis half the time. I'm often bored when people write how sick they are with a cold, but I'm totally done with being sick. Really just want this thing to move on already.
32. Hopefully I'll find time to post before another two weeks fly by.
2. Went to New York City last weekend for a last hurrah as a woman with baby in utero, because who knows when I'll get back there again?
3. Stayed with my single girl pal and saw a bunch of friends; interestingly, most of them are still single or are dating and are in far different places in their lives than I am.
4. Met with one friend who is type 1, married, expecting, and due just a few days after me. She's not a close friend, but I wanted to chat and find out how the pregnancy has been going.
5. Interestingly, we obsess over different things: I haven't drunk diet Coke or eaten bacon for months, while she has both but gets up every hour, she says, to test her blood sugar in the middle of the night.
6. We were both the same blood sugar when we met for an early brunch on Sunday (she was 108, I was 110). She worried that her high-protein meal the night before was still affecting her sugar, while I pointed out that I'd drunk two glasses of skim milk an hour before I met her, and felt like my reading was nothing to worry about. (Pre-meals, the pregnancy magic numbers are supposed to be 60-99 before a meal).
7. I also had lunch with Violet of Pumplandia; it was great to meet a blogger IRL (in real life), plus, she schlepped across the city to meet me closer to the neighborhood I was staying in.
8. I walked so much more than I ever do at home, and my bloods reflected that.
9. Cankles require me to wear only one of two pairs of shoes (either sneakers or these patent leather black loafers I've owned for years), so when I walked a lot, I noticed my back and feet got more tired than they ever have pre-pregnancy.
10. While I will always love NYC, staying in my friend's tiny apartment and walking around everywhere made me appreciate the (relatively) spacious house I live in, the car I drive and park in the driveway (as opposed to the time I spent searching for a space on the streets of Manhattan, or the money I spent on parking in garages).
11. Also met with an editor friend who gives me a lot of freelance work. As a mom of three herself (and we're the same age), she told me not to take on any freelance work for at least the first 12 weeks, but promised me she'd always have work to give me when I wanted it. Very reassuring.
12. Unrelated to the NYC trip, I've spoken to two groups of journalism students at two nearby colleges (in Boston) within the last week. The teacher for the first group, a class on magazine writing, told me I really connected with the students, how engaged they were during the presentation, and that perhaps teaching was in my future. Interesting. I always like doing talks about careers in journalism, and wonder if I'll get to do them any more once I am a mom.
13. Back at work, I'm heading into the last stretch of deadlines for the last magazine issue before I go on pregnancy leave. When I allow myself to think about this , I wonder if I should feel more sad about leaving my job for at least 12 weeks, and likely permanently. (The hours, commute, and lack of high pay tilt the scale toward a permanent leave). On one hand, I completely see I'm about to enter a new chapter in my life. On the other hand, there are times when I really think I'm ready to leave this office behind without regrets. Back on the first hand, though, I worry about whether I'll ever find a magazine staff job ever again, as it was what I dreamed about doing when I was in college. On the other hand, knowing that I don't live in the city where the magazines I really like are actually based, is it time to give up the idea of being a magazine editor in favor of full time freelancing and new motherhood? And will I ever make enough money to feel really secure about what I do as a freelancer with a child?
14. On this tangent, when will I ever have time to finish my own book projects, since no one is paying me to write them until after they're written and sold to a publisher by an agent?
15. Clearly, I think more about my career than I do about being a new mother.
16. People asked me if the Mister and I are excited to be new parents. I think we're taking things day by day and while I think about how the months ahead will be filled with new experiences and challenges, and that when I'm up at 4 in the morning, it will likely be with the baby as my companion rather than the laptop, I'm not necessarily excited. Intrigued by what's to come, yes, but aware that I have no idea what it will be like.
17. To that extent, my mother has told me more than once that I have no idea how tired I'm going to be and that the Mister and I have no idea what's about to hit us.
18. I responded that we have a sense that it will be hard, and that there's a reason we didn't have children when we were in our 20s, (one of which is that we didn't know each other then, but I digress...) but that we're about to move forward and to stop thinking like it'll be all negative.
19. I'm now going to the hospital weekly for one visit or another. I have weekly ultrasounds at the ATU (antepartum testing unit) and Endo or High Risk OB visits every two weeks. By March's end, they become weekly.
20. Blood sugars are what they are. Not super tight every minute of the day, but not crazy, either.
21. I get another fetal measurement this Friday, but the measurement three weeks ago showed the kid was within normal ranges and not gaining extra weight because of anything diabetic-related.
22. Someone asked in my comments last post if my insulin requirements had increased. Oh yes. I now take about three times as much insulin a day as I did pre-pregnancy. My skinny sister in law asked if I could stop this by eating less, and I pointed out that her non-diabetic body did the same thing as mine, but since she didn't inject or pump insulin, she had no idea what her insulin needs are. It's quite normal to have insulin needs increase in the latter half of pregnancy.
23. As a result, I've taken to refilling just the reservoir of insulin in my pump, rather than change the infusion set, every time the pump runs low on insulin. I used to change both the set and fill the pump at the same time.
24. Just signed up for a new baby-new mom group that starts in May. A mom friend of mine urged me to sign up, as getting out of the house the first few weeks are crucial. It felt weird to sign up for it yesterday, but I wanted to get in before the class filled up. It starts May 9, when the kid should be five weeks old.
25. Our baby furniture, which we ordered weeks ago and were told would take 12 weeks to arrive, came in after four weeks. I told the store that we're superstitious Jews, and that as soon as the baby arrives and is healthy, my husband will come in, pay off the balance, and have the furniture delivered. In the meantime, just keep it in storage.
26. I've commented about this elsewhere, but typically, us Jews don't do anything to openly prepare for having a baby. It's seen as tempting fate. That means no baby showers, no preparing a nursery, no buying baby clothes on sale, until the kid is actually here and healthy. I've only been to one baby shower that I can remember, and quite tragically, that baby turned out to be stillborn.
27. As a result, while we've been told to register and have actually done so, I've been pretty quiet about the details. And while other relatives have passed on a few baby items, they're either stashed in my car trunk or in the basement of our house.
28. We're hiring a painter this week to paint the baby's room, but I just want to close the door and not do anything else until after the baby arrives.
29. I haven't ordered crib bedding yet. Or curtains. Or any of that stuff. I finally called yesterday and learned that the day care we're going to go with has two openings for the time we want, and that we need to enroll this week if we want a spot. I've also been slow in lining up a baby nurse, which everyone tells me is crucial to do.
30. I apologize it's taken me so long to get to this point (and I already emailed her my thanks), but Serenity sent me a very cute gift yesterday as the winner of her "Name my IVF cycle title" on her blog. (I suggested "Now with More Uterus," which is very appropriate for her particular medical issue.) She ordered a onesie and cap from this store, a place I've always liked (and I again wonder if I'm tempting fate by even writing about it here. The Jewish guilt/schtick runs deep.)
31. I've suffered from an annoying cold over the past week and a half, ranging from copious sneezing and nasal goop to raspy coughing, to my current dry sore throat and larynigitis half the time. I'm often bored when people write how sick they are with a cold, but I'm totally done with being sick. Really just want this thing to move on already.
32. Hopefully I'll find time to post before another two weeks fly by.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Week 30 update:
Chap Ass, No TV? An Observation
Oh, it's been so long.
Another 60-hour workweek last week kept me from even reading the blogs I follow, let alone blogging myself. I've finally caught up with things and am out from the work (and home after dealing with the crap wind and snow and rain where I live. Why, why do we live here? The Mister and I ask ourselves this every winter, and it's always because "our families live here." I wish we could all move, en masse, to a warmer location. With a hipster city. But I digress.)
In the last two weeks, what's happened? Well, I've gotten myself to week 30 of this pregnancy. My maternity jeans I bought around week 10 officially don't fit anymore. My skin is dryer and more chapped in weird places than I've ever noticed before. Like, my thighs and back near my underarms--dry as a desert. I call myself Chap Ass when I get out of the shower. My belly, though--smooth and (knock wood, can't believe it myself) still stretch mark-free. I've taken to rubbing massage oil all over my body to try to relieve the dryness and on the thighs and tush, but there's been no change. I think it's just winter doing its thing, not pregnancy-related, though.
Went out of town last weekend to celebrate my brother's son's second birthday. The young'un is a Total Cutie, but watches Baby Einstein, it seems, all the time. It's like kid crack. I see the benefits, as in when my sister in law needed to cook and prepare dishes for the actual party, the nephew was glued to the TV and she got stuff done. But on the other hand--doesn't the Association of Pediatricians recommend no TV until age 2? Personally, I'm not a big TV fan myself, so I'd like to think I can entertain my kid with books and activities and whatever. But the truth is, I'll likely want some time to take a shower or check my email or heck, pee, without someone whining or crying in the background. I'd like to say I won't stick my infant in front of the Baby Einstein, but like everything else, I'll have to see how it goes. An online friend just gave me a bit of good advice, too: you don't have to drop everything as soon as the baby cries. It's ok for them to fuss a bit, particularly if you're trying to pee. I'll need to remind myself of that over and over again, I'm sure.
Today we are interviewing the first of two potential pediatricians for Baby L. Due to the crazy ice and snow outside, I'm technically "working from home" but I'll likely end up doing not that much work today. But at least I'll be able to get to the (local) pediatrician's office without leaving work early, schlepping home, and feeling like a slacker because I'm leaving before my coworkers do.
In fact, because I have workaholic tendencies, I've wondered if having a baby and staying home might even be easier than all the schlepping and commuting and late hours in an office I've put in. Every friend I've had with a baby has told me how hard it was, and believe me, I've never had to deal with diaper changes or incessant crying at the office, but in terms of not having to show up in an office and deal with deadlines and multiple personalities and stuff like that, I wonder if being a mom might be a welcome change.
Along those lines, last weekend, I tried to play with my nephew as much as I could whenever his attention strayed from the Baby Einstein. We sat and colored with magic markers, and I had to help him pull off the cover of the marker and put it on the opposite end. At one point, I taught him how to pull the cover off himself. Mr. L watched with a klempy look on his face. "You're going to be a great mom," he smiled.
Of course, not all was klemp and roses. My mother and brother, not known for their quiet tact, saw me on Saturday wearing a long wraparound maternity sweater that I wore because I knew it would keep me warm.
"Are you sure you're not having triplets?" one asked. The other just cackled.
"Shut the fuck up, you idiots. I'm seven months pregnant."
"That sweater isn't doing you any favors."
"What favors? Again... I'm pregnant!"
When I peeled off the sweater to reveal a maternity t-shirt and black maternity pants underneath, my mother seemed relieved. "Oh, you don't look so big underneath the sweater."
I mean, seriously, this is my family here. It's a good thing I can defend myself against their indignities. Shrinking violets don't thrive with these people.
Mr. L., on the other hand, tells me I continue to look beautiful. He just downloaded two years of photos from our digital camera last night, and it's clear to me that my face and body have gotten rounder and rounder since we got married. I'm pleased he's not into the waif look, because with me, that ship sailed back before I hit puberty. But hey, it's not like I can do anything about my current zaftig look until this kid comes out.
But then it's the quest for Lyrehca as Yummy Mummy in '08. I can't wait to join Weight Watchers and do hard workouts again.
In blogosphere-related news, Namaste commented awhile back that she was meme-ing me to reveal six weird things about myself. Honestly, I feel like I'm always writing about something odd I've worried about/said/done, so I open it up to the crowd. Want to know something weird about me? Ask a question in the comment section and I'll address it in a future post.
And Watson, probably the Funniest Blogger Ever, had a little competition asking her readers what to name her first IVF cycle as a subject on her blog. While the very talented Serenity won the contest with "IVF #1: Leggo My Eggo," Watson kindly commented I was a runner up with "IVF #1: Vote For Pedro." (Who doesn't love Napoleon Dynamite?)
Which brings me to another blog-related issue. Reluctantly, I upgraded to Blogger Beta, which is now just the current version of Blogger. (And crap, I just realized that many of my commenters now are listed as "Anonymous," which is totally lame.) So this means I can put my posts in subjects or labels, which might make it easier for someone new to actually read about topics which interest her (what? My entire life doesn't interest you? Pshaw!). So now I have to come up with my own subjects and of course want them to be snarky and funny. So the general categories are Diabetes, Infertility, Pregnancy, TTC, Food, Medical Care--Bad, Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the News, and Working. At some point I'll figure this all out, but if you have any suggestions for category names, comment away.
And on a final note, I commented to a (non-blogging, but very close in real life) friend that I read a ton of blogs these days, mostly diabetes-related and infertility-related, with a few outliers thrown in. It may be because the infertility blogs are women my own age, typically dealing with the parade that is infertility treatment, but they tend to be snarky and smart and funny to read. The D-bloggers cover more ages, more genders, and even more relatives (like, no one's mom is writing about her daughter's attempts to get pregnant). As a result, perhaps there are more worldviews and perspectives being covered in the d-blogger world.
But I sense a lot of underlying anger and despair (which is perhaps too strong a word) and sadness from the D-bloggers. The infertiles are full of anger and sadness too, but it seems to dissipate. I suspect it's because for a good chunk of them, the treatments either end up working (they get pregnant and go on to write about that), or don't, and then they reassess (do we try again? consider and pursue adoption? decide to be child-free?) and move on. The diabetics write about another high reading, another low, another annoyance, another scary eye appointment... but perhaps not enough about the moving on from these issues, likely because there is no resolution but to learn to live with the condition and be happy in spite of it. I'd like to think I've done that (and hopefully done it well). I don't know, I'm just saying I don't see as much humor and fun in the posts from the d-bloggers (at least, what I can relate to. Not being an animal-lover, pictures of people's pets don't get me all happy inside.) And while 29 years of the D hasn't been a picnic for me, I still like to think I have a sense of humor about things and try to laugh whenever possible.
What do you all think--am I being too hard on the d-bloggers? Do I just relate more to women in their 30s dealing with infertility than I do with other diabetics? Is my sense of snark and humor just not in tune with most of the d-blogging world? Let me know (nicely, please!).
Another 60-hour workweek last week kept me from even reading the blogs I follow, let alone blogging myself. I've finally caught up with things and am out from the work (and home after dealing with the crap wind and snow and rain where I live. Why, why do we live here? The Mister and I ask ourselves this every winter, and it's always because "our families live here." I wish we could all move, en masse, to a warmer location. With a hipster city. But I digress.)
In the last two weeks, what's happened? Well, I've gotten myself to week 30 of this pregnancy. My maternity jeans I bought around week 10 officially don't fit anymore. My skin is dryer and more chapped in weird places than I've ever noticed before. Like, my thighs and back near my underarms--dry as a desert. I call myself Chap Ass when I get out of the shower. My belly, though--smooth and (knock wood, can't believe it myself) still stretch mark-free. I've taken to rubbing massage oil all over my body to try to relieve the dryness and on the thighs and tush, but there's been no change. I think it's just winter doing its thing, not pregnancy-related, though.
Went out of town last weekend to celebrate my brother's son's second birthday. The young'un is a Total Cutie, but watches Baby Einstein, it seems, all the time. It's like kid crack. I see the benefits, as in when my sister in law needed to cook and prepare dishes for the actual party, the nephew was glued to the TV and she got stuff done. But on the other hand--doesn't the Association of Pediatricians recommend no TV until age 2? Personally, I'm not a big TV fan myself, so I'd like to think I can entertain my kid with books and activities and whatever. But the truth is, I'll likely want some time to take a shower or check my email or heck, pee, without someone whining or crying in the background. I'd like to say I won't stick my infant in front of the Baby Einstein, but like everything else, I'll have to see how it goes. An online friend just gave me a bit of good advice, too: you don't have to drop everything as soon as the baby cries. It's ok for them to fuss a bit, particularly if you're trying to pee. I'll need to remind myself of that over and over again, I'm sure.
Today we are interviewing the first of two potential pediatricians for Baby L. Due to the crazy ice and snow outside, I'm technically "working from home" but I'll likely end up doing not that much work today. But at least I'll be able to get to the (local) pediatrician's office without leaving work early, schlepping home, and feeling like a slacker because I'm leaving before my coworkers do.
In fact, because I have workaholic tendencies, I've wondered if having a baby and staying home might even be easier than all the schlepping and commuting and late hours in an office I've put in. Every friend I've had with a baby has told me how hard it was, and believe me, I've never had to deal with diaper changes or incessant crying at the office, but in terms of not having to show up in an office and deal with deadlines and multiple personalities and stuff like that, I wonder if being a mom might be a welcome change.
Along those lines, last weekend, I tried to play with my nephew as much as I could whenever his attention strayed from the Baby Einstein. We sat and colored with magic markers, and I had to help him pull off the cover of the marker and put it on the opposite end. At one point, I taught him how to pull the cover off himself. Mr. L watched with a klempy look on his face. "You're going to be a great mom," he smiled.
Of course, not all was klemp and roses. My mother and brother, not known for their quiet tact, saw me on Saturday wearing a long wraparound maternity sweater that I wore because I knew it would keep me warm.
"Are you sure you're not having triplets?" one asked. The other just cackled.
"Shut the fuck up, you idiots. I'm seven months pregnant."
"That sweater isn't doing you any favors."
"What favors? Again... I'm pregnant!"
When I peeled off the sweater to reveal a maternity t-shirt and black maternity pants underneath, my mother seemed relieved. "Oh, you don't look so big underneath the sweater."
I mean, seriously, this is my family here. It's a good thing I can defend myself against their indignities. Shrinking violets don't thrive with these people.
Mr. L., on the other hand, tells me I continue to look beautiful. He just downloaded two years of photos from our digital camera last night, and it's clear to me that my face and body have gotten rounder and rounder since we got married. I'm pleased he's not into the waif look, because with me, that ship sailed back before I hit puberty. But hey, it's not like I can do anything about my current zaftig look until this kid comes out.
But then it's the quest for Lyrehca as Yummy Mummy in '08. I can't wait to join Weight Watchers and do hard workouts again.
In blogosphere-related news, Namaste commented awhile back that she was meme-ing me to reveal six weird things about myself. Honestly, I feel like I'm always writing about something odd I've worried about/said/done, so I open it up to the crowd. Want to know something weird about me? Ask a question in the comment section and I'll address it in a future post.
And Watson, probably the Funniest Blogger Ever, had a little competition asking her readers what to name her first IVF cycle as a subject on her blog. While the very talented Serenity won the contest with "IVF #1: Leggo My Eggo," Watson kindly commented I was a runner up with "IVF #1: Vote For Pedro." (Who doesn't love Napoleon Dynamite?)
Which brings me to another blog-related issue. Reluctantly, I upgraded to Blogger Beta, which is now just the current version of Blogger. (And crap, I just realized that many of my commenters now are listed as "Anonymous," which is totally lame.) So this means I can put my posts in subjects or labels, which might make it easier for someone new to actually read about topics which interest her (what? My entire life doesn't interest you? Pshaw!). So now I have to come up with my own subjects and of course want them to be snarky and funny. So the general categories are Diabetes, Infertility, Pregnancy, TTC, Food, Medical Care--Bad, Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the News, and Working. At some point I'll figure this all out, but if you have any suggestions for category names, comment away.
And on a final note, I commented to a (non-blogging, but very close in real life) friend that I read a ton of blogs these days, mostly diabetes-related and infertility-related, with a few outliers thrown in. It may be because the infertility blogs are women my own age, typically dealing with the parade that is infertility treatment, but they tend to be snarky and smart and funny to read. The D-bloggers cover more ages, more genders, and even more relatives (like, no one's mom is writing about her daughter's attempts to get pregnant). As a result, perhaps there are more worldviews and perspectives being covered in the d-blogger world.
But I sense a lot of underlying anger and despair (which is perhaps too strong a word) and sadness from the D-bloggers. The infertiles are full of anger and sadness too, but it seems to dissipate. I suspect it's because for a good chunk of them, the treatments either end up working (they get pregnant and go on to write about that), or don't, and then they reassess (do we try again? consider and pursue adoption? decide to be child-free?) and move on. The diabetics write about another high reading, another low, another annoyance, another scary eye appointment... but perhaps not enough about the moving on from these issues, likely because there is no resolution but to learn to live with the condition and be happy in spite of it. I'd like to think I've done that (and hopefully done it well). I don't know, I'm just saying I don't see as much humor and fun in the posts from the d-bloggers (at least, what I can relate to. Not being an animal-lover, pictures of people's pets don't get me all happy inside.) And while 29 years of the D hasn't been a picnic for me, I still like to think I have a sense of humor about things and try to laugh whenever possible.
What do you all think--am I being too hard on the d-bloggers? Do I just relate more to women in their 30s dealing with infertility than I do with other diabetics? Is my sense of snark and humor just not in tune with most of the d-blogging world? Let me know (nicely, please!).
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Going for the Gold
I did it.
I asked a question at the doc's office that hadn't been asked before.
Since I tend to ask a lot of questions (and it was even documented in my chart, I learned yesterday), I often say things to reassure myself that I'm not the only crazy one.
"Surely I'm not the (craziest person you've seen/only person who's worried about this/the worstyou've dealt with)?"
Yesterday, I was.
Week 28 appointments all jumbled together on a Friday morning: Kind Endo, the ATU unit, and the High Risk OB.
For the second time, High Risk OB was in the middle of an emergency procedure, so I saw the nurse practitioner, who I've seen many times before and like a lot. NP confirmed for us that the c-section is officially scheduled, and that things seem to be moving along. I piped up with something I've been concerned about since day one of this pregnancy.
"Since this is an IVF baby, is there a way to find out, right away, that this kid is genetically ours?" I asked. "I mean, I know the fertility clinic is renowned and all that, and if the kid comes out a different color or race, it'll be obvious. But really, even if the kid sort of looks like us, how do we really know? Is there DNA testing we can do right there?"
Nurse Practitioner paused, talked about paternity tests and insurance not covering such things, and that we'd have to look into such testing ourselves, and that if there was a problem, we'd have to approach the fertility clinic and take it up with them. Then she gave me a look.
"Surely others have asked this, right?"
"Actually, no. You're the first."
"But you hear about this stuff happening," I countered. It was a storyline on Desperate Housewives last fall.
Nurse Practitioner is a great nurse--reassuring, professional, and easy to talk to. She wants to be polite.
"Oh, you can be honest," I said. "I can handle it."
No one has ever voiced this concern to her, and while I'm the clinically interesting patient with the host of issues, this one is likely to put me in the Crazy Patient Hall of Fame.
Last month, when I was having odd leg cramps, I looked it up in a common pregnancy guidebook that's been criticized for being too alarmist, and it said if pain continued, it could be a blood clot that could CAUSE BAD THINGS and to call your provider's office. Nurse Practitioner took that call, essentially told me that if I had a blood clot that went to my heart or head, I wouldn't have had time to call her, since I'd be in serious trouble. Said pain disappeared a day later.
There you go. I had been a contender for the medal, and yesterday I took home the gold.
Earlier yesterday morning, before the NP visit, I had my first visit to the hosptial's ATU unit, which apparently stands for Antepartum Testing Unit. If post-partum is after the kid arrives, though, why wouldn't it be called pre-partum beforehand?
At the ATU, I had yet another ultrasound and the kid's head, abdomen and legs were measured to determine how much it actually weighs, and I was assured that the amount of amniotic fluid in my uterus is at an acceptable level.
As of yesterday, Baby L weighed three pounds, and everything was developing on schedule. The legs and abdomen were all a few days ahead of where I am in the pregnancy, and the baby's head measured nearly two weeks ahead.
"Does this mean my diabetes is giving the kid an oversized head?"
"No, actually, everything looks great. The abdomen is what usually indicates a problem with diabetes, and it looks fine."
Kind Endo later reassured me that diabetes tends to make the kid skulls smaller than usual, and that everything looks within normal ranges.
"I have an oversize head," volunteered the Mister. "Hats never fit me right."
The ATU nurse doing the ultrasound also noted the kid's activity, saying the baby's fist was clenched up and relaxed as it moved in front of the face. "Good fine motor skills," she said.
"So that means the kid's going to be a great engineer, right?" asked the Mister, a proud engineer.
(I've countered that this baby will grow up to be a Scrabble champion and a word lover. We'll see how the left-brain/right-brain fight will play out at home).
Finishing up the trifecta of appointments, Kind Endo saw me and made the usual adjustments to my ever-creeping higher blood sugars. Last week, I topped out at an even 100 units of insulin for just.one.day. It wasn't even a crazy eating day. Just the insulin resistance kicking in even more.
Now that I've passed 28 weeks, I'm starting to read about the possibility of going into premature labor. With all my general nuttiness, and the reassurance that I'm scheduled to have a c-section on a specific date (at a specific time!), premature labor would shake things up but good.
I just signed up for a bunch of classes through my hospital, all about infant care and breastfeeding and CPR and a cesarean-specific class. I haven't even thought about Bradley or Lamaze or breathing techniques because I figure I can skip all that.
But premature labor? Water breaking and contractions too early?
Oy.
I just gave myself something else to worry about.
I asked a question at the doc's office that hadn't been asked before.
Since I tend to ask a lot of questions (and it was even documented in my chart, I learned yesterday), I often say things to reassure myself that I'm not the only crazy one.
"Surely I'm not the (craziest person you've seen/only person who's worried about this/the worst
Yesterday, I was.
Week 28 appointments all jumbled together on a Friday morning: Kind Endo, the ATU unit, and the High Risk OB.
For the second time, High Risk OB was in the middle of an emergency procedure, so I saw the nurse practitioner, who I've seen many times before and like a lot. NP confirmed for us that the c-section is officially scheduled, and that things seem to be moving along. I piped up with something I've been concerned about since day one of this pregnancy.
"Since this is an IVF baby, is there a way to find out, right away, that this kid is genetically ours?" I asked. "I mean, I know the fertility clinic is renowned and all that, and if the kid comes out a different color or race, it'll be obvious. But really, even if the kid sort of looks like us, how do we really know? Is there DNA testing we can do right there?"
Nurse Practitioner paused, talked about paternity tests and insurance not covering such things, and that we'd have to look into such testing ourselves, and that if there was a problem, we'd have to approach the fertility clinic and take it up with them. Then she gave me a look.
"Surely others have asked this, right?"
"Actually, no. You're the first."
"But you hear about this stuff happening," I countered. It was a storyline on Desperate Housewives last fall.
Nurse Practitioner is a great nurse--reassuring, professional, and easy to talk to. She wants to be polite.
"Oh, you can be honest," I said. "I can handle it."
No one has ever voiced this concern to her, and while I'm the clinically interesting patient with the host of issues, this one is likely to put me in the Crazy Patient Hall of Fame.
Last month, when I was having odd leg cramps, I looked it up in a common pregnancy guidebook that's been criticized for being too alarmist, and it said if pain continued, it could be a blood clot that could CAUSE BAD THINGS and to call your provider's office. Nurse Practitioner took that call, essentially told me that if I had a blood clot that went to my heart or head, I wouldn't have had time to call her, since I'd be in serious trouble. Said pain disappeared a day later.
There you go. I had been a contender for the medal, and yesterday I took home the gold.
Earlier yesterday morning, before the NP visit, I had my first visit to the hosptial's ATU unit, which apparently stands for Antepartum Testing Unit. If post-partum is after the kid arrives, though, why wouldn't it be called pre-partum beforehand?
At the ATU, I had yet another ultrasound and the kid's head, abdomen and legs were measured to determine how much it actually weighs, and I was assured that the amount of amniotic fluid in my uterus is at an acceptable level.
As of yesterday, Baby L weighed three pounds, and everything was developing on schedule. The legs and abdomen were all a few days ahead of where I am in the pregnancy, and the baby's head measured nearly two weeks ahead.
"Does this mean my diabetes is giving the kid an oversized head?"
"No, actually, everything looks great. The abdomen is what usually indicates a problem with diabetes, and it looks fine."
Kind Endo later reassured me that diabetes tends to make the kid skulls smaller than usual, and that everything looks within normal ranges.
"I have an oversize head," volunteered the Mister. "Hats never fit me right."
The ATU nurse doing the ultrasound also noted the kid's activity, saying the baby's fist was clenched up and relaxed as it moved in front of the face. "Good fine motor skills," she said.
"So that means the kid's going to be a great engineer, right?" asked the Mister, a proud engineer.
(I've countered that this baby will grow up to be a Scrabble champion and a word lover. We'll see how the left-brain/right-brain fight will play out at home).
Finishing up the trifecta of appointments, Kind Endo saw me and made the usual adjustments to my ever-creeping higher blood sugars. Last week, I topped out at an even 100 units of insulin for just.one.day. It wasn't even a crazy eating day. Just the insulin resistance kicking in even more.
Now that I've passed 28 weeks, I'm starting to read about the possibility of going into premature labor. With all my general nuttiness, and the reassurance that I'm scheduled to have a c-section on a specific date (at a specific time!), premature labor would shake things up but good.
I just signed up for a bunch of classes through my hospital, all about infant care and breastfeeding and CPR and a cesarean-specific class. I haven't even thought about Bradley or Lamaze or breathing techniques because I figure I can skip all that.
But premature labor? Water breaking and contractions too early?
Oy.
I just gave myself something else to worry about.
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