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 worst you'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.