Diabetes victory of the week: I adjusted my basals and my overnight numbers are pretty good. I adjusted my bolus ratios and my two hours postprandials are very rarely high.
Diabetes failure of the week: It turns out that in late pregnancy, there's such a narrow range of "acceptable" that you're always going to feel like you're failing. Too many blood sugars that seem low and your Dexcom Clarity bar graph is ** ALERT ** ALL RED ** MAJOR HYPOGLYCEMIA RISK ** ALERT **. Too many high blood sugars and they automatically assume your baby will die from shoulder dystocia during delivery. After 10-14 days of feeling that my postprandials were just too close to 150 for comfort and adjusting all my basal rates and bolus ratios, this week it was too many lows.
I still believe that it's more important for me to pay attention to how I feel than to what my sensor is reading, because for some reason, the sensor readings seem artificially low. I do not suffer from hypoglycemic unawareness at any time other than while I'm sleeping, so I can tell the difference between a genuine 50 mg/dL blood sugar and a sensor reading of 50 mg/dL that comes out to 70 or 80 mg/dL when I stick my finger. Case on point? My sensor read 42 when I woke this morning. I had a drink of Gatorade. When I calibrated 15-20 minutes later, my sensor read 48 and my blood read 82. But it is an uncomfortable line to walk, and not one that many people, doctors or otherwise, understand.
Mostly unfounded fear of the week: I had a growth ultrasound this week, showing baby in the happy middle, 50th percentile. And still every pound I gain, every time someone tells me I look big, every time I feel my abdomen stretch in a new and uncomfortable way, I'm paralyzed by the anxiety that this baby will be TOO BIG. Actually, I've put my finger on the real anxiety. I don't truly doubt that the baby and I will be fine. What's really happening is that I'm worried someone in the hospital will THINK she's too big and insist on induction/c-section/other unnecessary intervention. It's amazing how one collection of bad experiences can so overwhelm all good experiences to the contrary. Except I guess I haven't had very many good experiences with doctors believing in my ability to deliver a healthy baby, and so I'm continually anxious that the healthcare providers I encounter during pregnancy and delivery will likewise doubt this. 😓
Mostly intangible joy of the week: My four year old confessed at breakfast this morning, a little shyly, that he loves Jesus more than me. I struggled to explain to him how important it was that he do so forever. Then he walked around the house, repeating, "Jesus is the most I love." My one/almost-two-year-old, likewise, walked around the house, chanting, "Jesus. Most. Love." It was amazing, and I understand what people mean when they say they wish their kids could stay little forever. (Except I do want them to learn how to take a shower and put their shoes on, for lots of reasons, so you know, there's both good and bad about growing up. :)
Diabetes failure of the week: It turns out that in late pregnancy, there's such a narrow range of "acceptable" that you're always going to feel like you're failing. Too many blood sugars that seem low and your Dexcom Clarity bar graph is ** ALERT ** ALL RED ** MAJOR HYPOGLYCEMIA RISK ** ALERT **. Too many high blood sugars and they automatically assume your baby will die from shoulder dystocia during delivery. After 10-14 days of feeling that my postprandials were just too close to 150 for comfort and adjusting all my basal rates and bolus ratios, this week it was too many lows.
I still believe that it's more important for me to pay attention to how I feel than to what my sensor is reading, because for some reason, the sensor readings seem artificially low. I do not suffer from hypoglycemic unawareness at any time other than while I'm sleeping, so I can tell the difference between a genuine 50 mg/dL blood sugar and a sensor reading of 50 mg/dL that comes out to 70 or 80 mg/dL when I stick my finger. Case on point? My sensor read 42 when I woke this morning. I had a drink of Gatorade. When I calibrated 15-20 minutes later, my sensor read 48 and my blood read 82. But it is an uncomfortable line to walk, and not one that many people, doctors or otherwise, understand.
Mostly unfounded fear of the week: I had a growth ultrasound this week, showing baby in the happy middle, 50th percentile. And still every pound I gain, every time someone tells me I look big, every time I feel my abdomen stretch in a new and uncomfortable way, I'm paralyzed by the anxiety that this baby will be TOO BIG. Actually, I've put my finger on the real anxiety. I don't truly doubt that the baby and I will be fine. What's really happening is that I'm worried someone in the hospital will THINK she's too big and insist on induction/c-section/other unnecessary intervention. It's amazing how one collection of bad experiences can so overwhelm all good experiences to the contrary. Except I guess I haven't had very many good experiences with doctors believing in my ability to deliver a healthy baby, and so I'm continually anxious that the healthcare providers I encounter during pregnancy and delivery will likewise doubt this. 😓
Mostly intangible joy of the week: My four year old confessed at breakfast this morning, a little shyly, that he loves Jesus more than me. I struggled to explain to him how important it was that he do so forever. Then he walked around the house, repeating, "Jesus is the most I love." My one/almost-two-year-old, likewise, walked around the house, chanting, "Jesus. Most. Love." It was amazing, and I understand what people mean when they say they wish their kids could stay little forever. (Except I do want them to learn how to take a shower and put their shoes on, for lots of reasons, so you know, there's both good and bad about growing up. :)
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As I mentioned, my growth ultrasound showed a very normal sized baby, and all BPPs have been perfectly normal. In any case, all my babies have been eight pounds, and I expect she will be, too.
My regular OB had accidentally cancelled my appointment based on a misunderstanding at the receptionist's desk, so I happily skipped it this week.
However, I was a little disappointed to realize, at one of my recent appointments, that my OB didn't recognize me after we'd had three appointments together. That was a little discouraging. I suppose I could blame it on myself for switching doctors yet again. He has enough excuse, having moved from one practice to another in the last two months and all new faces to learn. I hope he'll remember me by the time I deliver. I was thinking that bringing all my kids to the next appointment might make me more memorable, but nine, seven, and six year old boys + cervical exam = completely awkward. We will see...
I'm GBS negative. This is good, because I'm not convinced we are going to make it to the hospital with enough time for antibiotic delivery anyway, and I don't want the pediatrician to give the baby antibiotics after birth. (I have a suspicion, lacking anything like proof, that my oldest son developed celiac in part because his digestive tract got so messed up from 7 days of IV antibiotics after birth).
Here's a funny story that may or may not have gotten my doctor's attention about how to handle what could be a precipitous delivery for me:
"So what happens if I don't make it to the hospital in time for antibiotics?"
"Well, once you get to the hospital, they'll deliver two courses of IV antibiotics four hours apart."
"And if there's not time?"
"It's one of the first things they'll do. They'll ask you about your GBS status when you arrive."
"They didn't make it through intake questions last time. I delivered about 20 minutes after arriving. In fact, it's happened that fast twice."
"Oh..."