The Girl That Swallowed The Basketball
Everyone says that when you’re pregnant with your third or beyond, you pop a lot faster. I don’t know about that being true. They also say that if your abs are in good shape, your muscles hold that baby back closer to your spinal column longer. I entered this pregnancy the lightest I’ve been, compared to my other two pregnancies and probably in the best shape of any of the three too. It took a while for me to truly “show;” but now there’s no doubt.
I’m 22.5 weeks right now and Sassy reminds me daily that my belly is “HUGE!” She has no idea how ridiculously huge I’m going to get. I remember with each of the girls, being 36 weeks pregnant and thinking, “I can’t possibly get any bigger. . . ” and then I did.
Yesterday, Mr. BBM and I were at Lowe’s and decided to divide and conquer. As I was walking aisle to aisle, people kept looking at me funny. One couple stood there and was obviously talking about me as I walked by. I started doing a mental inventory. Was my nose running? My hair sticking up? Did I have something on my shirt? On my pants? Why were people looking at me?
I met up with Mr. BBM and asked him if I looked ok. “Yeah, why?” he asked.
“People are looking at me funny. I just feel like something isn’t right.”
Mr. BBM started to laugh and pointed at my stomach. “It’s probably because the only place you look pregnant is right there,” he said. “It’s comical. Most pregnant people don’t look like you.”
I looked down at my protruding stomach. It truly does look like I’ve swallowed a basketball. I still have the indentations at my waist. I can still feel my hip bones below the baby bump. Despite eating plenty, the only place I am carrying this baby is straight out front. Following the gestational diabetes diet from the start has made a big impact. To date, I have gained only 4 lbs. I am hoping that means this baby will be the smallest one yet with an easy deliver and that I’ll be able to get back in shape quickly. I am especially hoping that I am able to continue avoiding a gestational diabetic diagnosis. So far, so good. . .
The Ultrasound and the Entourage
From my very first visit, I worried about this pregnancy. “Advanced Maternal Age” was checked on my intake papers by my midwife. She didn’t make a big deal about it, but she told me she had to remind me anyway. Like I didn’t already know this. Plus, there was the gestational diabetes component. I was fairly certain I failed my 1-hour test a little over a week ago. So as the entire family looked forward to the ultrasound, I was a bit worried. I read the “anomaly” checklist this morning and so I knew exactly what the doctor was looking for as he did my ultrasound. With each “that looks good” and “that looks ok too,” I could feel myself relaxing, decompressing. It was a fabulous feeling. It was equally fabulous when he told me the results of my 1-hour glucose test. I had passed with flying colors.
And then he asked the question that the girls had been dying to answer, Mr. BBM too. “Do you want to know what it is?”
I told him I didn’t want to know but that I had been outvoted. My Mom and both of the girls stood there wearing pink. We had all gone around and said our final guesses in the waiting room. “Girl,” said Sassy. “Girl,” said Big I. “I don’t know but I think ‘girl’,” said my Mom. Mr. BBM said “It’s probably a girl,” but then said that since we had all said “girl,” it was likely a boy, just to prove us all wrong. I then added my two cents. “It’s a girl,” I said. “I can’t even imagine having a boy. The only thing that would make me think ‘boy’ is that I am not breaking out at all like I did with the girls. . . ”
The nurse called me and my entourage back to the room. . .
And then the doctor zoomed in on what could only mean one thing.
“It’s a boy,” he said.
Sassy’s jaw dropped to the floor. Big I giggled and my Mom laughed too. Mr. BBM looked shocked. I covered my face and laughed and then I said, “Are you sure? How sure are you?”
The doctor went back to the tell-tale sign that it’s a boy. “Well,” he said, “I’d say it’s pretty obvious. . . ” Mr. BBM said that is exactly what you want to hear when someone tells a father they’re going to have a son. Yes, we’re talking about penis size already. Lord, help this family.
So, there it is. I’m having a BOY. I am in complete and total shock, as is my family.
I told the doctor I had no idea what to do with a boy; and he kindly offered me some advice. . . “You duck.”
This is going to be quite a journey.
Ultrasound Day
Today is the day Mr. BBM and the girls have been anxiously awaiting. I didn’t want to find out if we’re having a girl or a boy until birth day, but I’ve been out-voted. Mr. BBM and Big I were able to sway Sassy to their side and since not a one of them is capable of keeping a secret for longer than 30 seconds, even if I decided to stick my fingers in my ears and just let them find out, I’d know by the time we left the office anyway, I’m sure.
The ultrasound, pregnancy craziness, and the fact that I just finished reading “Something Blue” could have something to do with my absolutely insane dreams last night. I had a dream that I had not one, not two, but three baby boys. And I’ll simply state that one of these boys did not look anything like the other. Think baby dreadlocks.
I was so overwhelmed and exhausted from the labor that I fell asleep immediately after and when I woke up, I discovered several things. First, despite the fact that the hospital told me I’d be getting a suite for my new additions, they gave me a pull out bed/trundle thing in a lobby and told me I had to change the babies on the floor. I wasn’t having that, so they moved me to the on-call suite where tired doctors were snoozing face down on what should have been my queen bed. Realistic dream, I know.
I also woke up to find out that Mr. BBM had taken the liberty of naming all three of our babies, names that had never been discussed, names that I in fact, don’t care for much at all: Brice, Sage and Travis. What?
Then, when I protested the names and asked him how he could have done that to me, he stormed off to the cafeteria with my entire family, leaving me behind with all three newborn babies. I had to load all three babies into brand new car seats in order to drive to the cafeteria. Also, completely realistic right? Once there, I realized I couldn’t hold all three infant carrier seats in two hands so I unstrapped all the babies and stacked them one by one across my narrow left shoulder. Think baby sandwich.
I never got any resolution to the dream or the names, because the alarm went off. I just know my whole family was mad at me that I wasn’t letting Mr. BBM get away with naming the kids, all three of them. And Sassy kept popping up in the dream and holding up all these fingers, four on one hand and three on the other, to let me know in no uncertain terms that the girls in the house were now outnumbered.
When I woke Big I up, she asked me if I was excited for the ultrasound, because she can barely sit still she’s so excited. I am excited to see the baby and count appendages and get assurances that everything looks good and healthy. Once we know what we’re having and how many (please just be one!!!), it’s going to be a 19 week dash to get the baby’s room ready and get everything in order. This pregnancy seems to be flying and I have no doubt that it’s going to feel very soon that I’m posted brand new baby pictures here.
I just need to make sure I stay awake post-labor, long enough to see that this baby gets one of the agreed upon names. . .
Not the Result I Was Hoping For
This morning I went to my midwife’s for my 1-hour glucose tolerance test. I completely forgot how nasty that stuff is until I took the first sip. It made me shudder. I don’t ingest that many sugars ever, so it was a real shock to my system. I should have known the result would be high, because as I sat there, my head started to hurt and I felt miserable. At one point, shortly after drinking it, I started coughing and thought it was going to result in throwing up. It was fabulous fun.
While I sat there letting the glucola work it’s way through my system, I read my file. All the notes about Sassy’s birth were in my file. “Uncomplicated” was checked in all areas minus the pregnancy part, the previous gestational diabetes. I’ve been telling people I was in labor for over 15 hours with Sassy but it was actually 16 according to their notes. I pushed for all of 10 minutes though before she was born, a 7 lb. 10 oz. baby that was the picture of perfection.
At the one hour mark, the nurse drew my blood for both the sugar and an A1C. When she stuck me it hurt more than usual and it took a while for my blood to get flowing into the viles. She did something wrong because usually I’m not sore after having blood drawn but I’m wicked sore right now and anticipate that I’ll be bruised tomorrow. When I left the office, I sat in the car and used my own glucose monitor to prick my finger and get a reading. It came back at 155. It was probably over 160 from my arm and with the couple minutes difference.
I immediately felt deflated. Despite completely changing my diet over the last 5.5. years, despite entering this pregnancy 10 lbs. lighter than I did with Sassy, it’s likely I’m going to end up having to take the 3-hour test. It’s likely I’m going to have a lot more intervention than I want. I know I shouldn’t, but I let my mind go to all the bad places. . . diabetes that doesn’t go away, a birth at the hospital instead of the birth center like I desperately want. I know I’m getting ahead of myself but it’s difficult not to do that when you’ve been down this road before.
I drove home and ate some protein and washed it down with unsweetened tea. I felt a little better. I went to pick up Sassy at Preschool. She greeted me with a huge smile and we talked the entire way home about what she had done at school and about our upcoming vacation. I took a good look at her in my van spy mirror as she sat there in her lavender skirt, her shoes and headband sparkling, and I reminded myself that no matter what happens, it will all be worth it.
She was.
I Swear I’ll Deliver This Baby Myself
Filed under: Mental Strain for Mama, Things that get my gi all in a bunch, Woah Baby
On Friday I had another midwife appointment. I’m now going on 19 weeks pregnant. With each of my previous pregnancies, reaching 20 weeks was such a milestone. I could start counting down the weeks instead of up. Half way there. I went to my appointment in such a good mood.
It was quickly ruined.
My midwife, usually always so laid back and open to questions and conversation, was in a rush. She had a situation at the hospital. And what she did have to say to me, I didn’t like one bit.
All cases are reviewed with the supervising OB doctor. Like most doctors, he doesn’t want to take the conservative approach to my potentially high-risk pregnancy due to my being a gestational diabetic last time. So, instead of waiting until the typical 24-28 weeks, he wants me to do a 1-hour glucose-tolerance test this week, which means he’ll also want me to do one at the 24 and probably 28 week mark too.
Here’s what he does not realize, but I plan to make him realize when I go for my ultrasound on May 24th.
First, my Mom is a Type 1 Diabetic. I am well aware of what diabetes is and how it can potentially affect me and my baby. That’s why, since I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes with Sassy, my diet has drastically changed. I always ate well, but I eat ridiculously well since then. I don’t drink any sugared drinks at all. When I drink orange juice, I pour a tiny bit in a cup and water it down. I drink milk a half cup at a time due to the sugars in milk. I count carbs and combine carbohydrates with proteins. I only eat whole grain breads and pastas. I avoid sweets except in very limited amounts. I never stopped eating well because if the diabetes is going to come back and stay, it comes back typically, within five years. It’s been five years and my blood sugars are normal. I know this because I have a blood glucose monitor and since the day I found out I was expecting a “bonus” baby, I’ve been randomly testing my blood sugars. . . fasting ones, 1 hour post-breakfast, lunch and dinner. Each and every one has been normal, completely normal. In fact, they’ve been more normal than most average people.
I’ve also gained a total of 2 lbs. this entire pregnancy so far. Two. Clearly I’m eating well.
More-so than anyone, I know the risks because I’ve been through this before, and because I’ve been the daughter of a brittle diabetic for almost 32 years. I wouldn’t put myself or my baby at risk, but I really want this doctor to back off. At the first sign of trouble, I’d be happy to let them know I’m having a problem. I’m not going to be stupid about it. Like I said, I know the risks. . .
But stress does awful things to your body and from the minute I found out I was pregnant, I was scared. I don’t want to have gestational diabetes again. I don’t want the GD to turn into full blown diabetes. I see what my Mom has to deal with and the three month taste of it that I had, was plenty, thank you very much. So from the minute I found out I was expecting, I made a conscious decision that I would be careful, but that I wouldn’t stress myself out. Now that I know others are stressing, I’m stressing. And it ticks me off, because I felt like I was going through this pregnancy on my own terms and now I’m not.
I’ll take that 1-hour glucose tolerance test this week. But when it comes back normal and then I’m asked to do it again in a couple weeks, I’m going to stand firm and say “no.” I have a glucose monitor and I am a responsible, informed and educated adult. I chose a midwife because I didn’t want extra intervention. I honestly feel like firing them all and just delivering this baby by myself. All of this medical intervention is unnecessary and unwarranted. Maybe other pregnant women like doctors fussing over them and offering every test possible. I’m not that girl.
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