03/15/2007: "And now I shall cry a little"

Remember when I was crowing about how stable and even my hormones have been during pregnancy and how this was a cakewalk compared to the pre-menstrual swings of yester-months?

Yeah. I spoke a tad too soon.

See, I hit the third trimester mark and everything went to hell, merrily, in a handbasket. I have pretty much felt like a train wreck this past week. I blame the hormones, yes, and I blame the fact that I cannot get more than 2 hours of unbroken sleep anymore (I'm either making the Herculean effort to roll over or making one of my many trips to the bathroom) but mostly I blame my old friend Worry.

Worry and I have been intimate on many, many occasions. Worry comes to visit me often in the wee hours on the night, especially during the school year when together we traipse the well-worn fields of "Am I doing everything I can to teach these kids?" and "Are all my lesson plans in place?" and my own personal favorite, "What did I forget to do today?" That last one has kept me up for many an hour as I go over and over and over a never-ending list of things that I either should have done, wanted to do, forgot to do or didn't actually want to do and am actively trying to figure out how to get out of doing.

Oh it's jolly times with Worry. We have nothing but fun.

Lately, of course, Worry has had a new playmate. Stark-Raving Freakout has joined in the party and it's all I can do most of the time to keep her at bay. The gestational diabetes diagnosis has brought SRF out from her hidey-hole where she'd been lying in wait since the first trimester. See, the whole first 13 weeks of my pregnancy, Freak and I were close pals but I kept the upper hand. Worry helped push me toward the loving arms of Stark-Raving Freakout more times than I can count - every cramp, twinge, ache, pain or lack thereof was an opportunity for the two of them to whisper in my ear the siren song that goes, "What was thaaaaat? Is that the first sign of a miiiiiscarriage? Is your baby OOOOOOO-kay? So many things could go wrooooooooong."

It was not a platinum hit, but it had a good beat and I could dance to it (which I did, many times). But I kept myself to myself and, as far as I can recall, never really melted down.

I guess my immunity is weakening though (something is sure as hell weakening because it just took me two minutes to come up with the word "immunity" and every time I typed "weakening" in the last sentence? I typed "weaking" first. EVERY TIME). Anyway, since the diabetes diagnosis it's been nothing but a non-stop rave with Worry and Stark-Raving Freakout. They are in the hiz-ouse and nothing can make them leave.

I will not chronicle the litany I go through, because it bores even me. Suffice it to say that the list of things that can go wrong with a diabetic pregnancy, up to and including stillbirth, is never far from my mind. I know that the likelihood of a problem that extreme is so remote as to be laughable because I am doing everything in my power to manage this and it's not that far out of control. Plus, I'm doing things outside of my power - because really, if I think worrying is helpful here I am deluding only myself, but I am the type of idiot who feels that if she is not worrying she is not doing everything possible to stave off The Badness.

It's the unknowns that get me. I freely admit to being a huge control freak and the fact that my fasting and post-breakfast blood sugar levels are too high is not boding well. I am also a competitive person and this whole thing feels like a tremendous failure to me. The reasoning - illogical though I know it is goes like this: Good mommies do not get gestational diabetes and put their babies in any sort of risk categories. And if good mommies have the poor fortune to get into this situation, they get on the ball and take care of business immediatement! Good mommies do not dick around with fasting blood sugar levels that are 6 to 10 points too high. They get in there and kick that blood sugar's ass. You do not appear to be doing that. A=B=C and therefore, not such a great mommy.

The fact that I am doing what the dietician says to do and I am exercising and the blood sugar hasn't budged? Extremely frustrating. And it's the frustration and the worry together that are pushing me towards the freakout. I spent much of the day yesterday trying not to cry and failing many times. It didn't help that I was watching Discovery Health and those people have a penchant for shows that tug the heartstrings. If it's not life-saving surgery that brings someone back from the brink of death it's a miracle baby or six. One baby actually died at the end of "Special Delivery" and I freely admit to losing my shit altogether.

I don't know quite how to approach the next weeks. I would prefer to sleep through them, but this is not practical (how would I get up to pee?). I would attempt the tried-and-true method of ignoring it as much as possible but this is equally difficult because 7 finger sticks a day will tend to remind me. Even I, a happy queen of denial, cannot ignore 7 blood-stained fingers a day. Eating every 2 hours and poking oneself with a pin 7 times a day does not a normal life make, you see, and it is hard to pretend otherwise.

We are at the 12 weeks and counting point. It is extremely unlikely that they will let Dessa bake any longer than that, so one way or another... just under 12 weeks. It is not the prospect of the diet or the finger sticks that bother me for the next 12 weeks. It's the goddamn uncertainty. Poke me and bleed me as much as you need to... but don't make me wonder. That I cannot handle.

Replies: 2 Comments - Read 'em!

on Thursday, March 15th, Joanne said

You're friends with Worry too? Small world (heh heh).
So sorry pregnancy has been hard for you. Me too. I am endlessly excited about having a baby but this process of pregnancy is so much harder than I ever thought it would be. I am having the turning over in bed problem too (damn Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction!).
I am so sorry you are having to deal with GD. I would feel the same as you about the loss of control.
Hang in there. Breathe. Stay away from scary tv shows.

on Friday, March 16th, Jeannie said

Ya know -- I'd read these books, or watch these shows, and I'd start bawling, and Kipp would tell me, "Don't read those books/watch those shows." and I would GLARE at him because he DOESN'T GET IT. But you know... maybe there's something to be said for sparing yourself a little bit of grief and maybe TiVoing some of those shows for later when the hormones and the fear are a little more manageable... and they will be, I promise. Love you lots!

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03/15/2007: "And now I shall cry a little"