Well, this has been quite the week. That confidence I said I had in my post this past week? Well… it’s sort of derailed again. I’d like to say that’s surprising, but then I’d be lying.
OB appointment
I had another OB visit with the same PA I saw almost 3 weeks ago. She had told me at the last appointment to bring my diabetes supplies and she’d order all the stuff I would need for testing. I really liked her and she seemed to be on the ball with things, a good thing, since it drives me up the wall that this clinic still does paper charting and with the barrage of PAs I constantly see, I feel like I’m always getting someone up to speed.
She walked in this time and introduced herself again as if we had never met. She sat down and apologized for Dr. A being called to a birth and thank you for being flexible. I was too polite to tell her that I actually had made the appointment with her in the first place and we had already met.
I showed her my old meter and said this was all I had of my old supplies and she asked if I had started testing yet. No, I said slowly, you said I didn’t have to test yet, I just needed to bring my supplies. That seemed to jog her memory a bit.
Then she paged through my chart. “Your blood pressure looks okay, so I don’t think we need to adjust anything yet.” No, I reminded her. According to MFM, I don’t need to adjust my BP meds until I’m consistently above 140/90. Never mind my blood pressure was something like 131/84 and that was with them taking it immediately after I sat down. I knew I am probably going to have to repeat this mantra at every single appointment. She paged through the notes. No, she didn’t see any notes from MFM, but she’ll call to get those. I gave her the gist of what they said, sure these notes were going to fly into the abyss, never to be seen again.
She wanted me to start testing four times a day: fasting in the morning, and three times after meals. She wanted to see the fasting under 95 and under 140 an hour after meals (Last time, my parameters were 90 and 130, so I’m sticking with those). She asked if I could return to the clinic with my results in two weeks.
“And, it looks like you were measuring big last time.” She wanted me to get on the table to take measurements. I gave her a confused look and said, no one ever told me that (AKA she never told me that at the last appointment).
I got up on the table and she took out the measuring tape. “We just need to keep an eye on it, it could be that it’s your third baby, but you could also have too much fluid.” She measured before abruptly walking back to the chart, and then there was a cold clinical urgency in her voice.
“Yes, we need to get you into a growth scan right away. You’re measuring big. Could you come back next week?”
I rolled my shirt down and sat up, coming to sit back in the chair. I took a breath. “You already have me coming back in two weeks. Instead of coming back in a week for this and then again a week later, can I just come back in two weeks to do all this?” What I didn’t add: Unless this is the emergency you’re making this out to be in which HEY let’s just slice this baby right out of me right here right now.
“Well, yeah, we can do that, we can say come back in 1 or 2 weeks for the growth scan and diabetes check.” Reluctantly.
Which really pissed me off. I know I’m high-risk. I know I’m intensely monitored. I know I’m a fucking time bomb ready to go off at any moment, but for the love, could we reserve the alarmist language for something that’s an actual emergency? Could I have too much amniotic fluid? Yes. Could it also be something harmless like, third baby problems? Also yes.
- I’ve been showing since early in my first trimester.
- I make big babies.
- There was nothing said about this in the level 2 US a month ago. Fluid levels were perfect.
- The baby is listed as measuring in the 99th percentile. Again, I make big babies.
Will there be just as much fluid in there in one week versus two? So why all the fuss when last time she didn’t even say one goddamn word to me that I was measuring big? It clearly wasn’t a big deal then.
Plus, she asked me again if I was having a girl or boy when she had already asked me at the last visit. And then in the same appointment, she asked me for a third time.
Look, I’m all for giving someone a break if they’re having a hot mess day. I’m the queen of the fucking hot mess. But… you seem scatterbrained and then you fly off the handle like something is seriously wrong with me when I’m already extremely vulnerable to the fact that my body sucks being pregnant and never should have been again in the first place. Read. The. Room.
Healthcare providers reading this: Don’t treat your patients like they’re a time bomb ready to explode at a moment’s notice. You know, unless they’re actually about to explode. In which case you do something about it right then and there because it’s a real fucking emergency.
Otherwise, all you’re doing is freaking your patient the fuck out for the possibility of literally no reason.
I walked out of there defeated. As I do 90% of the time with these appointments now. I also realized that 2 of the 4 PAs there I never want to work with again.
I scheduled my ultrasound and appointment (apparently supposed to last over an hour with just the ultrasound alone) and walked back to my car and cried most of the way home.
Diabetes testing
Diabetes testing has been okayish the rest of the week. I started testing the morning after picking up my prescriptions. My first fasting was 91 which isn’t bad, but my goal is to keep it under 90, not 95. All was good the rest of the day, but I was purposefully eating fewer carbs than usual given my history.
The next day, I had a 1/2 bagel (white, because whole grain bagels don’t exist anymore anywhere ever) with peanut butter, cottage cheese (something I despise, but use as a source of protein when dealing with gestational diabetes) with strawberries. I could eat this breakfast when I was pregnant with Emelia without any issue, but this time my glucose was 140. Luckily, I hopped on my elliptical for 15 minutes and my 2-hour test was 106 (it’s supposed to be under 120). Okay, I thought, at least that helped, so know some light exercise after a meal like this can help.
Friday night we had family night and Chris made thin-crust pizza. I was curious how my body would handle a high-carb meal, so I had five slices (it’s not as much as that sounds) and my glucose was 145, and 123, 2 hours later.
Okay, I thought again, not a big deal. It sucks, but clearly, I’m dealing with some insulin resistance here. I’m going to have to watch what I eat until I deliver. I’ve done it before, I can do it again.
This morning I woke up and my fasting was 89, so still under the limit. And I found out smoothies are still keeping my glucose stable, so that can remain a breakfast option.
But there’s this guilt that I’ve probably been walking around with high blood sugars for the last few weeks and how much of that has affected the baby?
In other news, the baby has been wild and crazy in my uterus, bopping it around and flipping and punching, much to everyone’s delight. Olivia’s gotten to feel him several times now, but I don’t think Emelia has the patience to sit still waiting for a kick.
I’ve also started dealing with more insomnia for whatever reason since Thursday night. So much that it’s making me feel run down and I’m worried about getting sick. For the last two nights, I feel like I’ve barely slept despite taking the magnesium gummies as usual.
I feel like I was doing so much better mentally, and that appointment this week just derailed me. I’ve been doing my Hynobabies self-led class again this time around, knowing I need to get on this because I was hospitalized last time at 34 weeks and didn’t feel as prepared as I wanted to in having a non-medicated birth. It’s just different this time around. I have two kids I’m trying to manage around work and it’s been hard trying to find the time I need.
And now, since I have no great pregnancy picture to display, I give you Emelia’s first haircut. Photo credit to Olivia who graciously stepped in when Emelia refused to sit alone in the chair and I had to struggle to hold her on my ever-disappearing lap.
