Baby #2 at 28 Weeks

I've made it to the 3rd trimester and the week has certainly been ... eventful!  

Sit back, relax, this post will take awhile to read. 

The previous 27 weeks of pregnancy have been pretty uneventful.  We've done lots of fun and exciting things, but in terms of pregnancy symptoms and issues I'd count myself pretty lucky. The third trimester, however, started off with a bang--- more like my doctor dropped a bomb on me!  

The week started out perfectly. Mother's Day weekend was full of all my favorite things... Hobby Lobby, 2 trips to JoAnns, and 40+ yards of fabric for the baby's room! Doesn't get much better than that :O) Brendon and Owen made me breakfast in bed and we spent the entire weekend together. It was so much fun! 

Then--- there was Wednesday. 

I took my weekly belly picture in the morning and sat down during nap time to write this blog post. But that never happened. Instead, I listened to a voicemail message from my doctor.  The nurse has called about appointment times or to double check about something small, but the doctor has never called before. I knew it was coming...I  just didn't know what it would be. 

I returned her call, but got her voicemail. Waited an hour. Called again. No answer. Then, started calling every phone number I have in my contacts for the Nellis Hospital. It was almost 3:30pm at this point and I knew that everyone would be going home soon. I was finally able to track down the doctor and she dropped the bomb on me. Two bombs, technically. The first was minor-- I need more Vitamin D, so she's prescribed an additional supplement. Then, she reminded me about the glucose test that I took 2 weeks ago. After being told that "no news in good news" I really didn't expect to hear from her about the test until my next appointment. As it turns out, I did fail the glucose test. I don't know that I've ever failed a test, but to fail this one really knocked the wind out of me. 

She told me my numbers, but really gave me no guidance at all about what to do next. My confidence in her dropped even more when she said, "I haven't really had a gestational diabetes patient here, so we'll just learn together. But don't freak out." 

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Silence. I decided to go with the "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" method.  I couldn't wait to hang up the phone.  

I immediately started crying and frantically called Brendon. {I completely stumbled over my words while trying to ask his coworker to have him call me back.} 

Called my friend, Brandi. She's had gestational diabetes with both of her pregnancies and I knew she'd have good advice for me.  {I left a voicemail for her and have no idea what I actually said... all I was thinking was "don't cry, don't cry, don't cry"}

Called Mom & Dad's house. Finally someone answered! Dad somehow made me laugh. I can't remember what he said, but I'm thankful for it because he pulled me out of my hysterical whirlwind. Mom helped too ... First, because she's Mom and second because she somehow always has accurate medical information. How does she do it? 

After talking to Mom and then getting a call back from Brandi, I felt like I at least had a little more information about what would happen and how I'd spend the next 12 weeks of pregnancy. 

Thursday's game of phone tag was with the nurse. She was much easier to track down and very helpful. She set up an appointment for Friday morning to teach me how to use my meter, track my numbers, and to help me with my meals. 

By Friday morning, I was so ready to talk to her. I'd been living in a state of shock and food now felt like poison. I knew I shouldn't be eating sweets, but I didn't know what I should be eating and I was really hungry!  

The pharmacy gave me a grocery sack full of boxes. Everyone else walked away with a tiny little goody bag of medicine, while I hauled off a sack of things that I had no idea how to work. The nurse was so helpful and a great teacher! She spent an hour teaching me about the carb limits that I now have to eat within and then showed me how to work my meter. The first prick of my finger was quick but traumatic. I could feel my blood pressure rising and tears welling up. I felt ridiculous. It's just a finger prick, like a paper cut. But, I don't want to give myself a paper cut 4 times a day!!

Three hours later I left the hospital with one giant bag of lancets, test strips, a meter, and my Vitamin D supplements.  I guess this is my new reality. 

The past 2 days of testing my blood sugar haven't been horrible.

I am learning that some of my fingers are more cooperative at giving blood than others. 

Brendon's been the best cheerleader ever!  Along with being incredibly supportive, he's made it his mission to rid the house of all sweets and had done some serious carb loading the past few days. :O) He even made me a delicious dinner (perfectly within my carb numbers) Friday night. I'm so thankful that he sees this as a challenge. It's helped me to think of it in a more positive way. 

Today, I was much less hungry and figured out two great options for breakfast and lunch that kept me full but kept my numbers down. Dinner was my first disaster. I carefully measured my food and made a PBJ with milk. (Have you ever actually made a PBJ with measuring spoons? It's eye opening.)   The sandwich was well within my allotment of carbs, but apparently my body didn't like it. 

The reading 2 hours after dinner was 132. 

I cried. 

Not because PBJs are off my menu, but because I was really hoping that this whole gestational diabetes thing was a fluke. My doctor's performance so far has been underwhelming (and she will no longer be my doctor after Patient Advocate meets with me on Monday) and I was really hoping that it was just wrong. Unfortunately, this finger prick confirmed that, even if my doctor is proving to be lacking in the OB department, the lab was at least correct. 

Now, I'm trying to get over the feeling that I've been poisoning myself and the baby for the past 2 weeks, while I didn't know my results.  It's the doctor's fault for taking an excessive amount of time to check my lab results, but I still have a heavy amount of guilt about birthday cupcakes, pizza, and Chinese food that I ate over Owen's birthday weekend.  We ate out more that weekend than we ever do normally and I never would have done that had I known earlier.... Mommy guilt at it's worst!