Despite what they say, good intentions are sometimes just stupid.

People say the dumbest things when they're trying to relate to you.
My absolute favorite was when I was pregnant and people would find out that I was diabetic. 9 times out of 10 I got: Have you ever seen Steele Magnolias? Honestly, I haven't ever watched the movie, but I AM aware of the plot--the woman is diabetic, tries to have a baby......and dies. lol Thank you for that special little pick-me-up! I feel super.
After James was born and he was considered small, I got: Oh my gosh! He's so tiny! Was he a preemie? -or- How many DAYS is he? I began calculating and responding with 87, 124, or whatever. lol Then I would get looks like I was a crackhead mother or an alcoholic. Yes, he has FAS. My sarcasm got me into plenty of trouble.
Now I've got a new one, and it happens ALL the time! James went for a sweat test to see if he has cystic fibrosis (he doesn't). Clearly we were there for a reason; I did not order the test myself. The nurse says: did you ever think that maybe he's just small? (sigh) Yep, we thought about it. Then later she informs me how I won't be so nervous with my 4th kid (my WHAT?) and that it's probably just first mom nerves. Again, sigh. Seriously, I didn't go to my pediatrician and freak out. THEY freaked out that he was losing weight/not gaining. People say this to me almost daily, like it's a brand new option we hadn't even considered. I sure appreciate the optimism, but um...here's yer sign.

How do you spell 'duty'? Wait...which kind?

There's reason I had to ask which kind of duty (or doodie?), and I'll get to that. But yes, even though I am the mom and supposed to be the voice of sanity in our household, my husband was double checking on how to spell 'duty' (hey, I'm the speller in the family, he's the math wiz), and the first thought that popped into my head was: doodie? why are you writing about doodie? I have to admit, I'm not even sure if I'm spelling THAT kind of doodie correctly, but it looks good. Needless to say, I still have not lived this down. But I did get some insight today as to why 'doodie', and not 'duty', was the first word to flash across my brain.
I got back from the grocery store and unloaded groceries while James played with Neon (his favorite crinkly winged parrot toy). Things started to head a little south in the entertainment department, so I finished up and grabbed James for a diaper change. Of course, I smelled a little something, but you never know whether or not there's a stealth poop in there. I pull off his pants and realize we've got a little mess on our hands, so I decide to pull off socks too. Then I realized, somehow, there was poo ALL over his socks. What?! LOL How did that even happen? So we change clothes completely, I basically give him a bath with several wipes, then give myself one. I still smell poo. So you see, how could I NOT think of doodie? It's a big part of my day. All I can say to James is: Well played, sir!

just to add to everything...

So I have this beautiful baby, everything is wonderful. My mom came for 3 weeks to help, incredible. He nursed great, slept...well...in between eating. By the way, they don't really impress upon new moms how a baby eating every 2 to 3 hours means from start to start. Well, it took James about 45 min to eat, and he ate every 1 1/2 to 2 hrs. You do the math. But I typically slept when he slept...we snuggled a lot. But everything was normal as far as I knew, all checkups were good. He continued to be a bit small, but head, length, and weight were all on the same curve, so no concern. When he went to his 4 month appt., things started to change. He had not even gained a pound in 2 months. He did, however, grow sufficiently in length. And you know, we noticed that he was skinny, and not fitting in or growing out of clothes, but everyone (nurses included) that we asked would say: he's just small, he's fine. So we tried not to worry. Well, now we began to worry. We thought the issue might be too much foremilk in me, because he would pull off the breast and gag a bit sometimes, and was becoming a fussy eater. So I began pumping before feedings to get him to the hind milk. 2 weeks later, he had gained about a 1/2 pound a day. Good news. 2 weeks later, very very little weight gain. So it was time to switch to formula. Honestly, I was devastated. I mean really, logically, I don't know why it was so bad. My sister said it best, I suppose. Nursing was how I mothered him. Without that, I felt unnecessary. It was also something I was very proud of doing for my son. I wanted to solely give him breast milk for one year. But as most of us know, whenever you get attached to an idea with kids, it's probably just not going to work out. :) Anyway, he wouldn't take a bottle. He had had bottles before, but it had been a while. If he even saw a bottle, he would scream and cry, which did not help my emotional state. My sister saved the day yet again when her neighbor overnighted a supplementer. What a great device! I wouldn't have known it existed, and it really saved us a hospital visit. So then I would pump before feeding him, and then he would get more formula through his little straw than breastmilk. This worked well, and eventually we found a nipple he would take (Playtex Natura nipple--honestly most like a boob that I've seen in regular stores). So he gained 2 ounces a day the first two weeks, one the second two weeks, and then one ounce total in the last 3 weeks. Sigh. We ran a ton of blood work, everything was normal. But for some reason, his stool was never checked until this last appt. Oddly enough, we found trace blood in his stool. Possible dairy allergy. Suddenly, things start to add up. He doesn't often get diaper rash, but when he does--blisters, hot, red, horrible. I think the doctors/nurses thought I left him in a dirty diaper for a long time. Doesn't happen. He had visible blood in his stool one time, but it was written off as a one time thing. He was pulling away from the nipple and arching his back. So we go see a GI doc. He has a bunch of signs of not only a milk allergy (or lactose, we'll see), but acid reflux, probably caused by the allergy. Again, sigh. He doesn't spit up massive amounts, and I thought that was what reflux was. Sooooo, if we had figured this out, I could have changed my diet and kept nursing. Would I have wanted to? Actually, I probably would, even though the diet kind of sucks (ok, really sucks). But I'm sorely disappointed that the choice was taken away from me. I'm still having to get over this, which is funny because before James was born, I was completely indifferent to nursing. If it worked, I was going to do it, but if it didn't, I wasn't. But it is interesting how you just get into something. Another shout out to my sister--she said that when you have a baby, you have to embrace everything you do and really believe in it. That's just the only way you can make it through. So when something falls apart, it's really hard.
It was even hard if my husband offered to take over a feeding. I couldn't do it. I could not let go. No matter how tired or frustrated I was, it was what I did. Every time I pumped or fed James a bottle, my heart broke a little. Again, so silly in reality. I have a healthy boy who is getting better (thanks to Alimentum and Zantac--which he hates with a passion-he'll never eat strawberries happily, that's for sure!), and he doesn't have some horrible disease. But man, it's been hard to get over. And I'm a pretty darn reasonable person. Time moves on though, and I still am a little sad about it and wish things had been different, but there is just as special a bond with bottle feeding. Thankfully, I have an incredibly understanding husband who has put up with my crazy and still loves me.

better late than never...

I had great intentions when I started this blog to keep a record of my pregnancy to maybe help someone or myself who was going through the same issues. But when things started to go a little south, I didn't really want to talk about it, write about it, or really anything about it. Not denial, just introspection.
Well, my son is now 6 months old, and everything is just fine. There were no genetic abnormalities, no developmental defects; he's perfect (and seriously cute). But I would like to continue to catalog motherhood as a diabetic mom as well. There are a few unique challenges to it, as well as the same challenges all moms face.
But first, a quick recap:
I had a great pregnancy on paper, but in reality it was wrought with worries and exhaustion. I drove two hours twice (sometimes 3 times) a week into doctor's appointments for the last few months (before that once a week, before that every other week), which mostly went fine but his size was always a bit questionable, which evidently can be a sign of all sorts of problems...or he could just be small. The last few weeks my blood pressure was way too high and I gained 14 pounds of water in 2 weeks (yes, I was pretty), so I was confined to the couch, but fortunately not the hospital. Again, on paper, this doesn't sound so bad, and it certainly could have been worse, but it was wearing. Four days before I was due to be induced, we went in for our last BPP (biophysical profile) and not only was my blood pressure even higher, but the baby was not moving much and was not doing the practice breathing. We went to labor and delivery to be hooked to a fetal monitor, and his heart rate was non-reactive (normally a baby's heart rate fluctuates a bit, reacting to its environment). We had a choice to either induce then with an emergency c-section a strong possibility, or go ahead with a c-section. We chose the c-section on our doctor's recommendation (this made even more attractive to me as I had just found out that, due to an old back fracture from a horse, I could not have an epidural--yikes!). All the doctors and nurses at Georgetown were incredible, and James was born very healthy, but small. 5 lbs, 14oz. Everything was great. I healed fast, James was nursing great, milk came in quickly, we were tired and happy.
So that's pretty much catching up through birth. I'll have to catch up on the rest later. Needless to say, we were thrilled at the outcome, and so relieved. A lot has happened since then, and continues to happen, so I'm going to keep playing catch up while keeping up with the current!

Blood Sugars

Throughout my pregnancy so far, I've tried to read everything I could online. Specifically, I wanted to read what real people wrote about. I found a site where moms told their tales of pregnancy and labor while having diabetes, of any type. All I saw were women who wrote that they only had 10 blood sugar readings over 200 for their entire pregnancy. Well, I'm sorry, but what a load of crap. I panicked at first. I had over 10 in my first trimester, but my A1Cs were still in the 5's, so all was great. All highs had a reason, whether it be a miscalculation, a pump or site error, or just your body keying you in that it's time to make an insulin change (which happens CONSTANTLY). I have a very tough set of doctors, and I was so afraid to go see them with my blood sugars, thinking I was doing something wrong. But all was well. So don't panick by what other people say. They're probably lying, didn't take their blood sugars often enough, or are freaks of nature that really did eat nothing but lettuce their entire pregnancy--especially if they had Type 1. But as long as you're seeing your doctor often (I go to my endocrinologist every two weeks through my pregnancy, until the end when I'll go every week), taking your blood sugars and logging them, you're going to be fine!

Well, I had the stupid Quad Screening done, even though I was fairly against most genetic testing for many reasons, not the least of which is all the cases of false positives. Of course, mine came back abnormal with low estriol, increasing the baby's chance of having Downs Syndrome. So I go in on Friday for a detailed ultrasound to see what's going on. My gut feeling is that everything is fine, but heck, I don't know. My doctor again mentioned the false positives and everything. I just hope they can see enough to tell me for sure. If I can know something for sure, then I'd rather just know. If we're still talking chances and percentages, I'd rather just not know.

Funny how your perceptions change when you're pregnant. For instance, I used to think I was sort of fat. Not really fat, but, you know, kinda. OH! If only I could go back! I looked great. My stomach was flat, I had no love handles, my legs were pretty toned. Now, 10 unnecessary pounds later, not so much. I hope this means that after I have the baby, if I get back to my pre-pregnancy weight, I'll feel a little better about myself, remembering my stomach beginning to block the view of the rest of me!