I really need to get better about writing these weekly posts. I swear the biggest hurdle is updating the letterboard and then putting on the yoga pants and t-shirt to take the weekly photo. I’ve reached peak laziness and just those two things is just. Too. Much.
So this week I just scrapped the letterboard. Mostly because there were all sorts of differing opinions on what size 3BB is this week.
What to Expect said cucumber, but The Bump said artichoke. Cucumber seems too long, unless it is like one of those mini-cucumbers.
One newsletter I subscribe to said a baked potato.
What to Expect also gives other options besides fruits/veggies and this week it was a disposable camera (which isn’t a disposable camera smaller than last week’s pop tart?) or the movie prop this week was from Office Space:
So I’ll stick with a baked potato. Since she’s only about 5 inches long and I feel like the Swingline is longer than that. Plus I can’t eat potatoes so I’m going to go with dreaming about a baked potato slathered in butter.
Speaking of food and the diabeetus, the reason I delayed this post this week was because I met with the diabetes nurse yesterday.
I was dreading it. I just had a really bad feeling it was going to go horribly. I envisioned walking out of there in tears and feeling like a giant, glucose-filled failure.
I am happy to report that was NOT the case. I didn’t even cry once. I was like five minutes late because the parking garage attached to this office was a giant clusterfuck. So then I was worried I’d get yelled at for that too. None of that happened. When I apologized for being a few minutes late, she was like “oh never apologize for that. In fact, I’ll call you if you’re more than 10 minutes late just to make sure you are OK!”
Right then and there I knew it was going to be just fine.
She told me that my epic failure (my words, not hers) of the 3-hour glucose test were an indication that I was already having issues with glucose. She pointed out that my fasting number at the test was high and that because it was so high, she knew right then it was going to be hard to get my fasting number controlled with diet alone.
We looked at all my numbers over the past two weeks. She was totally fine with all my post-meal numbers, but pointed out the still-high fasting numbers, so she said it was time for insulin.
I expected this because I have tried so many things, different foods, more protein, more carbs, marching in place for exercise, and I’ve only have one fasting number in the normal range. I am very thankful that this appointment was two weeks out from my diagnosis and that I had all this time to process it.
She explained that high fasting numbers means I can’t control the glucose levels with the insulin I have, so the baby (little baked potato baby!) is giving me her insulin to keep my numbers in check. And she’s a little potato, she shouldn’t be doing that! It’s MY job to keep her safe and healthy. Her only job is to grown and fatten up. She shouldn’t be doing any extra work.
Once she told me that, I was sold. I’ll do whatever I have to. I’m 3BB’s momma and I need to protect her at all costs.
So I’m on 12 units of insulin at night. I’m stopping the metformin (side note, I mentioned to the nurse about my PCP and she was like “I saw that. You poor thing. She should NOT have said that and I’m sorry she stressed you out.”). She told me I’ll almost 100% have to increase the amount of insulin as the pregnancy goes on and may have to split it up throughout the day, so she wanted to prepare me. It gets harder and harder to regulate blood sugar as you get further along.
Thankfully I’m well-versed in needles and injecting myself. Insulin is an EASY one, comes in a pen and the needle is TINY. After the PIO needle, anything else is a piece of cake.
Other than that, I’m very aware of my expanding uterus these days. It doesn’t look like it’s grown that much in the photo, but I can definitely feel that it is expanding upwards and squishing things. I grunt every time I get out of the recliner. And trying to cut my toenails the other night was not as easy as it used to be.
The nurse did say I can stay with my midwife for the 20-week appointment and then I’ll have to move to an OB. I can either choose one in the practice across the hall from my midwife’s office, or an OB in the Maternal Fetal Medicine practice. I’m going to ask my midwife for her opinion, since I’m really looking for the least judgey doctor. And since they are all group practices, I have to see all the doctors anyway, so I’m not sure it matters much. I am very thankful that I’ll get halfway with my midwife.
Until next week.
#3BBOnBoard