A year of change

One year ago today, we learned we were pregnant. It was a very memorable occasion given all that had happened to us.

It actually wasn't the first time we discovered we were pregnant. No, I only have one child. You see, we miscarried in January 2007. We learned this at our 9 week appointment, the first doctor visit for us. We had been so excited over the holidays. We'd kept it quiet and just enjoyed the secret knowledge that we were going to have a baby. Only those that really knew us were in on it as they noticed the change in my habits. The night before our 9 week appointment, I felt a huge flutter. Not knowing anything, I was so excited. The baby moved! All that excitement came to a crashing end the next morning when there was no heartbeat during the first ultrasound. After much reflection and discussion with our fabulous doctor over the next couple weeks, we determined that I had felt the seizure that lead to the baby's death that fateful night. There was no necrosis of the fetus on that first ultrasound. The baby looked perfect, just no movement and no heartbeat. We learned what necrosis meant over the next couple weeks as my body didn't reset still thinking I was pregnant. It is heartbreaking to see what at first had been a perfect fetus slowly wither away. The news was devastating and even worse was the waiting. We knew the baby was gone but we still hadn't actually miscarried yet. It took weeks and 2 D&Cs to actually get everything back to normal. In the meantime, I mourned.

Those closest to me realized I was desperately fighting a losing battle with a major depressive episode. My mother, her friend and my husband conspired together and decided I needed a change of scenery. It was off to the big island of Hawai'i for us and 2 blissful weeks of not thinking about anything but our whims and wishes. We went hiking, geocaching, snorkeling, scuba diving and ate wonderful fresh seafood. Somewhere in the middle of the trip I began to feel a bit funny but I waved it off. After all, we were in paradise! The night we were scheduled to fly home, I ordered a sumptuous lobster meal that I don't normally get and practically turned green when the plate hit the table. I couldn't eat it. My husband and I winked at each other simultaneously as he took care of my dinner as well. Thoughts were racing . . . were we pregnant again?

After an all night flight home, we didn't hesitate in heading for the store and a home pregnancy kit. Yep, that was one year ago today. A lot has happened since then: pregnancy complications in the form of gestational diabetes, birth and the subsequent wonderful months of raising our son.

What a wonderful year it has been.

Journeys

I am on a journey. In fact, we're 8+ months into this adventure as of this post. You see, I am pregnant with our first child. All in all, I have to say that I have loved being pregnant. There are certain aspects I could have done without: puking my guts out periodically, micro-bladder bursts when I laugh/cough/sneeze, and the required modern Spanish Inquisition. For those of you guys and women who've never been pregnant, I'm talking about the Glucose Tolerance test they give you around the 7 month mark. My situation is going to be a bit different from most of you gals out there, so take heart in the fact that what I'm about to say is NOT going to apply to most women. You see, my family has a history with Diabetes already. That makes me a much higher risk for Gestational Diabetes and Diabetes in general than the normal population. I've struggled with hypoglycemia (low blood sugar) for years. So when my Obstetrician, who incidentally is a GREAT and fabulous doctor, mentioned that we needed this test I groaned internally.

"I'm going to fail that test," I said immediately. We discussed it at some length and she, given my history, agreed that it was very likely. We set everything up so that we were in the best possible scenario prior to taking the test: no ingestion of anything but water for the 2 hours prior to the test, high protein containing meal was the last thing I did eat, and still I failed – that means my sugar was too high 1 hour after ingesting the Glucola crap they make you drink. For those of you who've never had the pleasure, the version I got tasted like Sprite or 7-Up with 4 times the normal amount of sugar you'd get in the regular drink. I understand there are cola and a lovely orange as well. Failing the first test meant that I got to go in for the full 3 hour Glucose Tolerance test they give suspected Diabetics. That one you have to fast for hours and they give you the drink and test you every hour. I won't go into the gory details, but the results were the same. All I can say is that I'm thankful I live in a time where we understand Diabetes. Not only do we understand it, but we have methods of controlling it as well. Baby is doing well and I have my sugars under control. The one dichotomy that I haven't yet been able to reconcile: how to control the sugars and gain weight at the same time. I go one of 2 ways: either the sugars are high and I'm gaining or they're controlled and I'm holding steady. Now given the effects Gestational Diabetes can have on the baby, I'll go for holding steady and let the baby take nutrients from me. Though, I am trying to eat. I eat 7 times a day now. This week I've lost a pound . . . great.

Enough about the downside of being pregnant, let's talk about the good stuff. I love feeling my little one move. My hubby and I have quite the little wiggle worm. We'll have to work on the circadian rhythms after birth as the prime time for the aerobic workout is NOT going to continue to be 3-4:30 AM. Naptime is right on schedule in the length of the afternoon though and most days I wish I could join in as well. Music is a big hit; Rachmaninov to the soundtrack from Shrek will spark a move into "listening" position. Every night at bedtime we have a story time. Currently we're working our way through Grimm's Fairy Tales. If you've never read the originals, I'll tell you, they are pretty sick and twisted. Definitely not for the faint of heart. I figure they are a great conversation starter as the journey continues with growing up. To quote Marcel Proust:

We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.

Cheers.