Wednesday, January 30, 2013

More Nursery Progress

I finally got to work today on a canvas that I'd been planning. I've seen some prints around of the quote "Books! The best weapons in the world!" from the Tooth and Claw episode of Dr. Who and was inspired to paint a canvas to go over the bookshelves in the nursery. I'm keeping the nicer books that I don't want the pages to get ripped up or colored on up on a chalkboard style shelf, and there are lots of board books that are infant/toddler safe already on the toy shelf below it. Next week's project will be to make a stencil of a Dalek so I can do a painting series to go on the wall over the changing table with an Andy Warhol inspired theme. Lots of bright colors! I also need to paint the toy shelf under the bookshelves. Huzzah for nesting projects!

Why doctors should listen to their patients

In late July and through August I spent pretty much a solid month trying to convince my doctors that the 70/30 insulin was being a giant jerk-face to me and I really wanted to go on an NPH at night with a fast acting insulin before meals on a sliding scale so that I could have more pinpoint control over my blood sugar. I've been on the 70/30 since I was diagnosed with diabetes because when I was diagnosed I was without insurance and even combining my income with Matt, we were under the poverty line. Most insulin cannot be accessed without seeing a doctor for a prescription, but the 70/30 in both Humulin and Novolin brands are sold over the counter. What's more, Walmart has one of those brands listed as a "generic" in a deal with their manufacturers as part of the Reli-On diabetes supplies generics and you can get a bottle for 25 dollars. This insulin is normally $85-100 a bottle, and one bottle lasts about 3 weeks at my dosage. Without the 70/30, I never would have been able to attempt to keep myself healthy, and I would have been in and out of the hospital with complications, or even comatose/dead by now.

However, 70/30 isn't without limitations. Once I take that first shot before breakfast, my entire day is planned. I have a certain amount of time I need to eat from the shot, then eat lunch, and a snack. The amount of carbs and the carb distribution of meals is determined by the shot. There is very little room for freedom. It's depressing enough, but coupled with my anxiety about the baby and my blood sugar early on in the pregnancy, it was a major trigger for panic attacks and deep, long fits of melancholy in the days of pregnancy before I was on Prozac and seeing a therapist. Even after I began my depression treatment, it caused a lot of stress.

However, every time I brought this up to the doctors that I was seeing in the high risk clinic, I was told "if it's not broke, don't fix it," referring to the great blood sugars I was maintaining. No matter how I tried to explain that the control I had wasn't the insulin it was ME, my self control, and my determination, and since I had insurance I felt it would only be beneficial to switch me to the fast acting/NPH separate combo, I felt like I was always dismissed.

Finally, culminating on the prenatal appointment the day before my birthday, I gave up asking. It wasn't ever going to happen.

Today, I was mentioning that I was having a lot of difficulty controlling my glucose levels lately, and that I admitted it could be stress, but that bumping up my insulin levels a tiny bit didn't seem to be doing much good. I spoke to Dr. Lanni, who suggested that we could have a prescription at the ready for me at my pharmacy of the NPH insulin and add a couple of units to that just before bedtime if I'm still having trouble with my fasting sugars because she felt that my post-meal sugars were completely fine and it was really just the fasting that were high enough to be treated. When I expressed my confusion at adding the separate insulin, and told her about my begging and pleading to go off the 70/30, she seemed as puzzled as I had been about why it wasn't changed. She pointed to my logs and said that she agreed with me both about the lack of freedom and the fact that 70/30 in pregnancy was so much harder to control when placental hormones come into play towards the end.

She patted my hand and told me that it wasn't too late to change, but I expressed to her that honestly I'd been completely worn out on the subject from fighting this battle back in the summer. I was willing to put up with the 70/30 for the last month of my pregnancy, and hopefully I would be able to get a PCP post-pregnancy that would put me on the separate insulin, or ideally an insulin pump. Just having her listen to me and validating that I hadn't been unreasonable in my desires to change insulin was a help, and having the option of filling the NPH if I'm finding that my fasting sugars don't get better is amazing.

I wish I had been able to speak to her in August. Diabetes still sucks a big fat one, but at least this pregnancy is almost over and Dr. Lanni told me that in general the placental addition to insulin resistance tends to level off around 36 weeks so hopefully for the last few weeks of pregnancy I won't be having to fight and grapple with my blood sugars.

In two days we have another measurement ultrasound, and I'm hoping that my struggling with blood sugars for the last couple of weeks hasn't caused any problems for Lorelai. I'm trying to assure myself that my control is better than I've been giving myself credit for and she's likely fine. My fundal measurements are exactly where they should be, so there's no need for worry. But of course I still worry. I'm probably the most annoying person I know. 

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Anxiety Update

We have a busy week ahead of us. Today Matt's off work (finally!) so we're going to go see the Hobbit again. Tomorrow I have a prenatal appointment and our birthing class, Thursday is my next therapy session, Friday we have a measurement ultrasound in the morning, and Saturday I'm going to be seeing a movie with one of the preschoolers I used to babysit in the morning and seeing a burlesque show with friends in the evening! Whew!

So far the controlled anxiety experiments I've been undertaking have been interesting to say the least. They lack the intense immediacy of anxiety attacks that hit randomly. It takes some time sitting and thinking and deliberately working myself up. Yesterday it didn't work very well. I got upset, but it wasn't the face-to-the-floor soul wrenching experience of my usual attacks. I'm not really sure how I feel about it, to tell the truth. Sometimes it does feel better to get out a good cry and look at scenarios in my head, but in the end it doesn't seem to do much difference - help or hindrance. I guess that's an improvement, because a true anxiety attack will leave me drained and miserable for the rest of the day.

The idea that we'll be 33 weeks along this week is somewhat terrifying but mostly just really exciting to me. I told myself I'd wait until 34 weeks to pack the hospital bag, and holy shit that's next week. In a month, we'll be officially full term. In 6 weeks, I'll be readying for my induction. What? No, I'm not sitting here thinking of new and exciting reasons to ramp my anxiety up. Shut up, Amanda.

I also went through last night looking at old pictures from over a year ago. Almost two years ago, we were moving into our new place, and I was watching two siblings and another infant. When Matt was home, he'd engage with the kids, playing games with them or letting them watch while he gamed, reading to them, talking to them, and I remember taking some pictures thinking that it would be so amazing if one day I could take pictures of him with our children. Finding some of these shots in a folder last night made me cry, of course. Happy tears though. But everything makes me cry. I'm going to blame the hormones, and silently apologize to my mother for making fun of her every time she cried at sappy parent/child feels in a movie.

He's going to be a great dad, as long as he doesn't let Lorelai go Alliance.

Monday, January 28, 2013

New Awesome Sports

Let's set the scene for a great deal of my nights: Imagine my comfy blue couch. I fluff the pillows on it and lay down, pulling my laptop onto my rotund belly and settle in with a glass of water and a few chapters of my genetics textbook to read. Ahh, this is the life. And then, about thirty minutes in, the urge to get up for some reason (most likely food/water/bladder emptying measures) hits and I have a great need to no longer be laying down. So I carefully clear a space on the coffee table if there isn't one, set the laptop down and begin the treacherous ordeal of sitting up and then standing from my position on my back. I feel not unlike a turtle, only my shell is backwards, keeping me from coming to a sitting position very easily.

I'm pretty sure that what I need to do is start timing how long it takes for me to get on my feet from laying down on the couch and urge myself to beat the time. It's a new sport, of sorts. Fifty extra points if I don't end up wheezing, "Jesus, take the wheel!" at some point in the middle of a spew of profanity while my legs wiggle awkwardly somewhere between the floor and the coffee table.

At least our bed is on a frame now so that I can just roll and shimmy unceremoniously to the edge and hope that I land on my feet. It's hard to imagine that just three weeks ago we were sleeping on a twin mattress on the floor and I was able to get up without much trouble every single morning. Jesus, take the nachos, more like.

However, I was pleased today to see that I've only gained 1/2 a pound in nearly two weeks, especially since most of that will be fetal growth as well. So it's not that I'm so much heavier as I'm just more... large. In trying to find a gif that accurately represents the ludicrousness that is my body these days, this was possibly the most accurate thing I could find:

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Comfort Measures

I hadn't really planned to do much with my night. Matt is working the overnight shift and then got talked into adding a 7-3 shift on top of that for an unexpected double. I made his lunch and was prepared for a boring night and day ahead of me of catching up on reading for class when one of the parents that I used to babysit for made a facebook status offering 50 bucks to someone willing to watch their toddler while they went out tonight. The toddler in question happens to be one of my favorite kids in the entire world, so fifty bucks for hanging out with one of the coolest people in Virginia? Sign me up.

He hadn't seen me in at least six months, since summer, so it was a little rough when his mom and dad left. There were some tears, but after a few minutes we were fine, snuggled up on the couch and watching Caillou while he nibbled on chicken nuggets and drank some juice. He sat in my lap and we looked at books together, and I tried to get him to pull out the blocks to play with but it was a no go. We pretty much just had a relaxing night vegging out on the couch and then when he was rubbing his eyes and yawning, I turned off the tv and changed his diaper, tucking him under a little quilt and rubbing his back while I hummed 'You Are My Sunshine' to him.

And I realized just how much I miss watching these kids. This used to be my 11:30 in the afternoon, patting backs and singing to toddlers and watching as their eyelids and breaths would get heavy and eventually they would sink into sleep. I'd love to watch children again, but right now it wouldn't be possible. I have too many doctor's appointments, at least one a week. Next week I happen to have three, on Wednesday, Thursday, and then on Friday. Staring next week I'll have my NSTs, so I'd be going into Richmond at least twice weekly. I can't exactly take kids with me to my therapy sessions, and trying to reign in toddlers during my doctor's appointments aren't exactly something I would willingly put myself through if I didn't have to.

Next Saturday I have a playdate of sorts set up. The dad of one of the preschoolers I babysat set it up for me to spend some time with her every couple of weeks or so because she misses me so much and doesn't really have a lot of chances to get out of the house with his work schedule. We're going to see a movie together, though I'm not sure what. Curiously enough, there aren't many kids' movies out right now. She likes superhero movies too, but I haven't seen any either. I have a feeling the Hobbit would be far too long for a 4 year old's attention span.

It makes me even more antsy for Lorelai to get here, because I realize that I'm happiest when I'm caring for and spending time with children. It's comforting to me to be the one that sings them to sleep, to see a smile on their face when something delightful happens during a game, or to see them immersed in their imagination as we read books. So while I wait, I take the chances I can to spend time with these kids that I care about and watch them grow and learn some more and dream about the day when these things that we do - watching movies, going to the zoo, playing board games, reading books - are the things that I can do with my own child(ren).

What a terrible, no good week

This week has been tough. Matt's been working more than usual lately, and on his one day off he got called in to go to a meeting. His drive to work is 40 minutes, mostly highway. It eats up a lot of gas. So with the extra gas he's been using, we are flat broke. I need more insulin. We need more groceries for the next week. Oh, and the days he doesn't have to work, we still have to drive into Richmond for my appointments. We'll be fine, it'll just be tight this time around, and we may have to dip into the savings, but the added stress doesn't help from the overwhelming stress that the end of my statistics class put on me and the fact that my blood sugar doesn't want to be good lately.

My fasting sugar this morning was too high - close to 120. I took my insulin and thought I was making a smart choice by keeping breakfast to a cup of yogurt - only around 15 grams of carbs. Two hours later, I'm still high. Can I please just get into a fist fight with my pancreas now? It doesn't help that Matt made a huge bowl of Ramen for lunch and it smells amazing and that's all I really want to eat but even if my blood sugar were behaving like it should, I wouldn't be allowed to have it.

I'm just in a pissy mood now from all of it, and I honestly have zero desire to be me today.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

A Cognitive Behavioral Approach to Anxiety

First, before delving into the wonderful world of clinical depression and anxiety, Matt came home with a gift. The residents at the assisted living center that he works at made a baby blanket for us. It's really cute! Tomorrow morning I'll be working on putting together a pretty thank you card and a plate of cookies to send with him to work.

So cute, it's bear-ly legal! (You may now groan in disgust at my sense of humor.)

Now that the cute's out of the way, we can get down to the nitty gritty of mental illness. YEY. Now that the nursery is mostly put together, and looks like an ~*ACTUAL ROOM*~ I tend to find myself wandering in there and sitting on the floor looking around. As a child's room, it doesn't look quite right. All the books and toys are stacked neatly away, the sheet is tight on the mattress, the diapers are put away in a tidy pile. It looks like a room prepared for a baby, but not used just yet. And that is, of course, because it is what it is. And so I will go and sit and start dreaming of the happy and frustrating times to come in this room and then my eyes will fall on something. Sometimes it's one of the impossibly tiny dresses hanging smartly in the closet, or the night light sitting on the dresser. That's when I start to wonder and worry - what will I do if March comes and goes, in like a lion and out like a lamb, and the room stays empty? What if something happens and we don't bring home a baby. What happens if the first days of spring herald the funeral of my first child?

Even if having diabetes didn't put me at higher risk for placental problems and therefore higher risk of stillbirth, I think I would still fear it, the same way I'm sure I would have still agonized over birth defects before our anatomy scan even without knowing that diabetes also raises the risk of that. So I worry, and I fret, and my imagination takes me to a reality where the room stays empty until one day someone asks me what I'm going to do with her things if we're not going to be using them, or if Matt suggests that we put the crib and changing table in storage so that we can turn the room into an office.

And then I promptly lose my shit, as one does, and for some length of time there is crying, and wailing, and I usually end up prone on the floor of the nursery, sobbing into the play rug somewhere around the magic castle on the horizon and begging the universe not to let this happen, as if any amount of wishing and pleading were enough to keep bad things at bay.

So this morning I brought this up to my therapist. We talked about it, and she asked me how long these anxiety attacks were lasting and I said I honestly wasn't aware. And we talked about the cognitive behavioral approach in psychology and she said that it might be helpful if I did become more aware of these attacks. She suggested that if I were to schedule time to freak out instead of it happening randomly, I might have more measure of control over the anxiety. So her suggestion was for each day for me to plan an hour to freak out in Lorelai's room, and take a journal and pen in there with me. I can write down anything I want, and keep track of the time. Eventually, she feels that I may not need a full hour, and as we taper down the time I allow myself to feel the anxiety so viciously, it may end up being a cathartic experience that I can come to let go of and no longer get blindsided by.

She pointed out that she wanted me to do this in the nursery rather than another room because she's worried that this might make me start to associate a particular room with anxiety. If I made sure to freak out in the kitchen, it might raise my discomfort being in the kitchen. She feels confident that the nursery is the best place to try this because "the meaning of this room is about to change drastically. When you have your child in your arms, and it is her room and not just her intended room, I don't think you'll have any ties to it with your anxiety attacks."  It seems solid enough to me.

Tomorrow is the first day that I plan on doing this, early in the afternoon after Matt's gone to work but before my friend and her children come over for dinner. We will see how this goes, and if it helps. 

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Little pieces of love

My father in law came over today and helped me to hang up the mobile over Lorelai's crib. It glows in the dark! I also put up the chalkboard style shelving for books, and I'm looking forward to having everything pieced together and ready for her to come home. I'm also really looking forward to being able to do the big nursery reveal with epic pictures, and hopefully those will be taken with my nice camera and not Instagram. Ha ha.

Every little piece I accomplish in her room is bringing me a lot of joy, like finishing an area in a very difficult jigsaw. The image is starting to come together, and the room is becoming less of "the second bedroom where all the unpacked boxes are," and more "Lorelai's room." Just about seven and a half more weeks (if I go all the way to my induction) until Lorelai is coming home to us.

I've been trying to find a way to adequately express the excitement, fear, and complete elation I feel when I think that this is it, I'm crossing over into the lee of this new path that I've always wanted to tread down but never was permitted before. It's extremely humbling. I know that a lot of people probably feel like I'm making too big of a deal about this - so what, I'm having a baby, people have babies every day. NBD, calm your titties down woman. But to me, this is the biggest freefall into happiness I've ever encountered. Anticipation that's built over the years to the point where it's now, and it's happening, and I can hardly believe it mostly because yes, so many women are moms. But now I get to be a mom? I don't feel like I deserve it.

So please stay with me while I completely geek out over all the little things like putting up the mobile and finding a bookshelf solution that I love, because I promise I'm not sappy all the time. I'm just finally finding the last few pieces of myself missing from the puzzle that I've been slowly working on for so long. It just feels so good.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

What a big belly you have!

I finally got my WiFi working so here's my first bump picture!

31 weeks tomorrow! About 8 weeks left until my tentative induction date. Huzzah!

Old Wives Tales and predictors

Amanda is expecting a baby!
Her due date is Thursday, March 21st 2013.

we predict that she will have a
Friday, March 15th 2013
7:43 pm
3197 g ~ 7 lbs, 1 oz
Get your prediction at  

Well, the sex prediction is wrong, but I came across this fun little widget and thought the prediction of the day I'll have the baby was interesting. The tentative (but not set in stone) date of my induction is the 14th, so what do you know, it could be right!

I finally took a picture of my baby bump today because I'm finally actually looking pregnant. And of course my phone won't connect to the WiFi in my apartment so I can upload it. Oh well.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Worth hoping for

I'm still working on unpacking and putting away everything in our new home. While going through the boxes that we've had in storage, I came across the small collection of Star Wars kid's shirts and onesies that I'd grabbed when I saw them in the Target clearance rack about three years ago when I was working there. They've been a small source of anxiety and hurt over the years. Every time I pulled down the shoebox they were in, looking inside and finding these clothes that I'd grabbed for a future child that was still just an idea, it would bring back my fears of infertility, of the dream of being a mother being an impossible one.

This week I'll begin to wash and put away all of Lorelai's clothing, including these items that I've cried over the years, fearing they'd never cloth my child. I got excited with this particular onesie. It's 18 month size, so she'll reasonably be able to fit into it around Halloween of 2014. I saw it and thought how adorable would she be in some candy corn striped leggings, a little black tutu and black ballet flats?

I think a lot about all the times over the years when I almost gave away these clothes or donated them to Goodwill. Something kept me back, though. Maybe it was just wild, foolish hope, a need to hold on to the thought that one day we might clothe a child in a display of our own nerdishness. I still can't believe my luck that waiting and hoping won the day. I can't stop going into her room and shuffling through her clothes, her toys, and thinking, just thinking, that we have just over 8 weeks and all those hopes will finally materialize.

Friday, January 11, 2013

A start

I've been busting hump trying to get our home in order, and starting to stress out a little bit because class started back up and I have two large projects due this week. I want to get everything put up and all the boxes out so that it really feels like a home in here, and at the same time I'm trying not to neglect my studies. There's also some stress mounting from my car acting so strangely right at the time when the amount of doctor's appointments I'll have is beginning to pick up. Blah.

Today for stress relief I decided to tackle the first big project in Lorelai's nursery, which was her crib. My blood sugar went low while I was assembling it and I ended up getting confused and put the back on inside out. After a break for food, rest, and a little bit of a recharge, I fixed it and got it squared away. I'm saving the changing table for the next day that I need a good project to lift my spirits.

Thursday, January 10, 2013


We've moved into the new place, and I like it. I still need to get the rest of the place squared away before I can start on the nursery, but I'm hoping this weekend I'll be able to put the crib and changing table together.

I have been feeling a little neglected, though. On moving day, my sugar began to drop very quickly around 1 or 2, and I mentioned this to Matt, asking if we could get something to eat before he and his dad took the truck for the furniture that was at the old place. I told Matt my sugar was crashing, and I was concerned because the only thing we had in the house was oranges. I feel like he just brushed it off and left. I started eating the crap out of oranges. Waiting for them to get back, my sugar crashed a second time, so more oranges were consumed. Finally at around 6pm, we went out to eat.

He had today off work and was supposed to get the things we had in storage. It felt like pulling teeth to get him to go out for the first load of boxes. When what I really wanted (silverware and microwave) wasn't in that first box, it took four times of me saying, "Can you go get more," or "Hey, are you wanting to get out there before the sun goes down?" before he finally went. I mentioned over an hour ago that I felt hungry, suggested something to eat, and I'm still sitting here waiting for him to get off the video games so we can go.

It's just frustrating because I feel like I'm just background noise right now to the television or his computer. It's frustrating to feel like I have to compete with tumblr or games for attention even on simple things like, hey, your pregnant diabetic wife desperately needs to eat. How is it going to be when the baby gets here?

Saturday, January 5, 2013

The right time, the right place

We've been reasonably busy since Wednesday. I've started packing up. For the last five months we've been renting a bedroom in Richmond, following our exodus from Chickahominy Bluff. Yesterday while we were running errands in Mechanicsville, we swung by the apartment complex and paid our first month's rent on our townhome, and were creepers and went and peeked in the patio door to see what work had been done. They'd just finished cleaning the carpets, and everything was bare and white, waiting for us to move in except for the glass marker math and shapes that the previous family had left on the patio door. A little Windex will clear that right up.

It's Saturday today, and we don't move until Tuesday but if I can have everything except what we absolutely need packed up today, tomorrow I can relax and work on homework, Monday do the last few errands (like pick up our installation kit for the modem from the cable office) and get to sleep early, and we'll be set for Tuesday. My car has been giving us trouble so I'm hoping that Tuesday morning it feels like starting up so we can both drive to the complex together and take double the junk beloved possessions. Since we'll be taking the fish and the rat on that first trip, having the extra space is kind of necessary. However, if my car does decide it wants to sleep in, it's not the end of the world because now we won't have to wait for a cable guy to show up.

I'll be putting together our TV stand and the nursery furniture while I make a lasagna for lunch for Matt, Dustin, Hannah, and his dad as well as anyone else who decides to help us move. While I unpack boxes and bags, I'll direct the menfolk on where furniture should go. I feel vaguely guilty about my (perceived) passive role in the moving process but just packing the room has reminded me why we decided on this. Sometimes I need a wake up call that I'm 7 months pregnant.

I'm having to take a lot of breaks while packing, especially when I do a lot of bending over to pull and pack things from off the floor and under things. Thursday I managed to overdo it, which my body let me know by giving me Braxton Hicks contractions that lasted most of the day even after I found a stopping point in my progress and put my feet up to rest and hydrate.

Hopefully on Tuesday I'll be at least able to get enough done to satisfy myself before I need to stop for the day. I've been in nesting mode without much of an outlet for it for so long that I just want to crash headlong into the townhouse with getting everything ready. Ha ha. 

Friday, January 4, 2013


So the ultrasound tech gave me a picture of Lorelai today with the comment that "her face looks like a baby face now!" And I guess I'm just not too great at noticing it because it still looks like a tiny Skeletor to me.

I mean, I can make out the eye socket and the nose, but that does not look like a baby face to me. So I fixed it with my favorite meme.

You're welcome, internet.

Also, it's super fun drawing in MS Paint with a computer mouse.


There have been a few anxieties that I've been experiencing lately.

  1. There's something wrong with the placenta and it's coming unattached. 
  2. Lorelai's belly circumference is too large, indicating that my blood sugars have been affecting her. 
  3. Lorelai has slipped behind even further in measurements, indicating that I'm not providing her with adequate nutrition. 
We had the first of the measurement check ultrasounds today and I can safely say that all three of those fears have been completely alleviated.

  1. The placenta looks great, and is not separating whatsoever. 
  2. Lorelai's measurements were all completely proportionate, and her belly measurement in particular was right at the 50% marker, perfectly average. 
  3. She is still measuring about a week "small", but only to the point that puts her in the 35th percentile for weight. The doctor said that there's nothing to worry about, because my EDD might be ahead a few days and even if it's not, it's not far from average at all. 
All is well, and I'm feeling really fantastically after seeing my little lady. She was smacking her lips on the ultrasound, and generally being stubborn about letting the tech see her heart which seems to be pretty much business as usual for her. Ha ha. I also got to see her chubby little legs and I can't wait until she's here so I can cuddle in all that roly poly babiness.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Oi! Watch it down in front!

I slept in until noon today, and not on purpose! Matt and I stayed up a bit on Warcraft and then went to bed. After a couple of hours of sleep, I woke up with a terribly uncomfortable pain. It seemed to be pinpointed at one spot right along my back towards my right side. Having nerve issues in my legs from diabetes, I can say that it felt pretty much like nerve pain so I wonder if Lorelai was pushing up against something? I tried to chug some water and relax to get it to go away, and no dice. Eventually I resorted to tossing and turning from one side to another until she moved, the pain subsided, and I could go to sleep again as dawn was breaking through the big window in our room.

Tomorrow we have an ultrasound relatively early in the morning, so hopefully tonight is pain-free and restful.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

The Final Countdown

Tomorrow I'm 29 weeks along, and with a semi-planned induction of "around 39 weeks", we have ten weeks left until we finally get to welcome Lorelai to this side of the Stargate womb. Today's prenatal visit went well, and even though I talked over my latest glucose numbers with my doctor and expressed my frustration at the numbers being higher than they had been in my previous two trimesters even with my vigilant changes to insulin, she's still happy with them. She pointed out that it was safer for me (and therefore baby) to run a little bit "sweet" instead of subjecting myself a lot of lows all the time. And I agree, I am not a fan of lows. It's just disheartening when my numbers had been doing so fantastically and now I have to actually work to keep them where I'd like.

It also turns out that the labs I had done from the health department back in August never got properly entered into the computer system when they transferred them to MCV, so I got to give away a lot of blood today to have them re-done. It sounded like the midwives were mostly worried about my blood type, and happily I already know that so I was able to tell them I'm B+ which means I don't need a Rhogam shot. Huzzah. The phlebotomist who got my blood today was really good too. I didn't even need a bandaid when she was done. Also, my A1c scores now should be MUCH better than what they were in August, when I only been in control of my blood sugar for about a month. I'd rather the better scores be on record in my files for when I transfer to a family doctor after pregnancy. I might be slightly vain about my medical numbers. Is that odd?

The MFM mentioned today that starting at around 32 weeks, I would be coming in weekly for a stress test on the baby and when I thought "holy cow, that's only 3 weeks away!" it really hit me how close we are to the home stretch. It's easy to think of ten weeks as two and a half months and still a long time, but I guess cutting it down into thinking that we are right about to be at the part when I really start being monitored makes it seem so much closer. I'm excited for things to get started. I'm excited to see my best friend and my sister again, and most of all I'm excited to have my daughter here.

6 days until we move, so I'm going to be working on packing up what little we have around the room over the next few days so I can enjoy the last weekend of my winter break by being a really lazy potato person. What I think I might be looking forward to most is the fact that in 6 days my husband and I will have our queen sized bed back, and no longer have to share a twin mattress on the floor. HALLELUJAH!