The End Result

I know that I have taken my sweet time with a follow-up post concerning the birth of my son.  My apologies.  In a nutshell, shit happens.  What kind of shit?  Oh, I dunno.  An unscheduled c-section because your son's heart rate is not responding very well to the contractions which led to unbelievable pain afterwards.  That pain prohibited me from rising out of bed to tend to my crying baby.  But how can I soothe my baby when he refused to latch on so I could feed him?  That was just the start.

The Baby Blues came in full force.  I already felt like a failure for not being able to properly birth my son so not being able to tend to him and feed him added to it.  But, the Baby Blues will happen to just about anyone.  It's the Post Partum Depression that one has to be on the lookout for afterwards.  (And here is my warning because I am about to open up more than I am prone to.)  I have battled depression before so I knew very well that I could go back there after giving birth.  I knew what I was supposed to look out for; the thoughts, the pain and the tears.  For a few hours, after the BNC went off to work and before my mom came over to help me as I recuperated, I would cry.  I would cry as I held my son and begged his forgiveness at my inability to be a good mother to him.  I begged that he forget how awful I was being.  It was a dark hole that, at the time, I didn't see any light.  I heard nothing but static in an empty room and I just simply couldn't find the door.  The anxiety was absolutely horrible.  I dreaded stepping out of the house for simple things such as buying bread.  I hated being outside as well as being away from my son.

But then, upon my own realization of the type of hole I found myself in, I visited my doctor and cried to her about it all.  God bless that woman.  She handed me a tissue, put her hand on my shoulder and told me that all was going to be okay.  She gave me Zoloft and kept me from returning back to work for a few more weeks.  I love her.

And, just like that, I got better.  I woke up with energy and a smile.  Yes, it takes a while for the medication to kick in but the simple fact that I was doing something about it made me feel a bit better.  I was on the road to getting better.  A month later and I am calm and happy.  If I am alone all day with my son, I don't panic at all whereas previously, I had a mini-meltdown when my mom was unable to stop by and lend a hand.  Of course, it helps a great deal when you have a very happy baby.

Noah is now 2 months old and I finally able to feel like his mother.  I still marvel at him.  I am amazed that I am a mother to a beautiful and healthy baby.  My diabetes didn't affect him at all.  That makes every sacrifice I did while pregnant worth it.  

Rounding Third

Tomorrow evening, July 26th, we are scheduled to check into our hospital and be induced.  I'm anxious to meet my son already; to make sure that he is okay.  It's only then will I finally relax and take that long awaited deep breath of relief.  

In a way, I am very happy to know when and how everything will happen.  No Hollywood movie scene here though a part of me was hoping for an August baby.  Then again, the only reason for that was to make sure he would be full term.  My prayer was half answered; he will be full term but just not in August.  I'm okay with that.  We are as ready as we will be.  A few minor things to do and we are set to go.

And, before I forget, I want to express my deepest gratitude to my BNC.  He has been a rock throughout this whole pregnancy.  He went to just about every appointment and tried his hardest to make me comfortable and happy especially during these last few weeks when things became more and more difficult.  I tried to include him in every decision because, after all, this is his son as well.  I wouldn't have made it without his support.  He pushed me and encouraged me when I thought I couldn't continue.  I have no doubt in my mind that he will be a remarkable father to our son because he has been a remarkable husband to me.  /sappiness

It has been a long and difficult journey but I'm confident that all the sacrifice and hard work will be worth it and I, for one, cannot wait to meet the end result.

Solemn Days

So, high risk dictates your due date.  We will not make it to 40 weeks.  Instead, we will be induced sometime after 38 weeks which is about 2 weeks away.  At first, it caused much anxiety because we are still missing a few key items for his arrival but then excitement settled in.  We'll be meeting our son sooner than later and that make me and my body very happy.  My body is aching.  The Kid's squirms, kicks and stretches are painful.  It's not a bad thing.  After all, it's what he's supposed to be doing but oy, it hurts.  Excitement is building.

And then you have days like today where you think about the people who won't be here to greet The Kid's arrival.  People who would have beamed with pride and shed tears of happiness with you.  People that, when they held your son, would make your heart burst into a million little pieces.  People like my Grandpa.  It's makes me incredibly sad that he won't be here.  He won't be able to hold my son, his great-grandson, and beam with pride.  He won't be able to tell me how proud he is of me.  He won't be here to plant a kiss on my cheek.  Most of all, he won't be able to make me smile when I see him holding my son.

Perhaps its the rain that makes me think about all of this but, then again, I always think about that Old Man and how much it hurts to know he's not here.  The void he left me with has been there for 14 years and it still stings thinking about the day he left that void.

33 weeks

OMG.  Less than 7 weeks remain (I hope) before The Kid makes his appearance.  At my most recent doctor appointment, my doctor told me she was surprised that I was doing so well given that I've had 3 things working against me since the beginning; my age (35), my diabetes and my mild hypertension.  All 3 put me in the high risk category.  At this point, it seems that I won't have any use for insulin injections.  However, I do have an upcoming appointment with my endocrinologist so that could change.  Anything can happen.  I wouldn't refuse the insulin.  I'd do anything if it meant having a healthy and beautiful baby.  Taking care of myself means that I'm taking care of The Kid.  

Currently, I visit my OB doctor, my endocrinologist and now, the maternal/fetal center where they will check The Kid every week until he's born.  They will check his growth as well as his heart rate, etc.  At last check, he is in the 59% tile which is very good.  It's where he should be.  It's confusing but you don't want a baby to score too high here.  90% means he is getting way too big and may have to come out sooner than later.  

But, as I mentioned before, we both are doing very well.  Aside from trying to maintain a healthy diet and exercise plan, it's been relatively low key.  Well, unless you count that overnight hospital stay I had last week, the result of a minor (and I mean minor) fender bender.  No fenders were even bent.  But, with everyone around me worried about me and The Kid, a simple call to the OB, just to quench their worries, landed me in the hospital.  High risk + minor car accident send you to the hospital for observation.  Contractions and The Kid's heart rate dipping into low territory keep you overnight.  Luckily, we passed the remainder of the tests and were sent home the following day.

We still have several things to do and buy before he gets here.  The baby shower is in about 2 weeks so we'll hold off until then to purchase what we need and didn't get.  In the meantime, the things that we have received are being assembled, clothes are being washed and things are being hung in the nursery.  Oh, and classes.  The classes have started because, let's face it, we have no idea what we're doing.  

Have I ever mentioned that I still cannot believe that we are having a baby?  I'm still in shock over here.

23 Weeks

It's only week 23 and I still can't believe that I'm having a baby.  The fear, the anxiety, the joy and the pain I feel in my heart, all at once, is constant.  I'm having a baby.  A baby boy.  I have been saying that out loud, whether to myself or the BNC, and it is still something of a surprise.

We still have a ways to go but we're slowly getting there.

19

19 weeks so far.  Aside from a few painful leg cramps and the inability to eat whatever I want, things have gone rather smoothly.  Tomorrow marks the halfway mark.  Still 4 months to go.

Breakfast

One of the hardest things, so far, about the pregnancy is feeding myself.  My diet is so strict, moreso now than ever.  I feel as if food has become the enemy.  I eye everything suspiciously, eat it cautiously and wait the results of what my meter will tell me 2 hours later.  

Right now, breakfast is my stress.  My usual PB&J sandwich is no more, at least for a while because, according to the books my doctors have me reading, consuming peanut butter may lead to The Astronaut having asthma problems.  Say what?!  And just like that, my go-to breakfast is no more.  I like a good egg sandwich but, by the time I eat it at the office, it's cold.  Cereal and milk raise my blood glucose to really bad levels.  So, here I am, trying to research some better, quicker but still yummy breakfast options for my morning work days.  I know the yummy and healthy answer is out there.  I just have to find it.

Great Expectations

  

Yup, good old Margie went and got herself knocked up and on purpose too! Today marks the 14th week and, so far, so good.  Both the BNC and I are very happy and scared and excited and just happy.  It was a very planned pregnancy and surprisingly, we conceived a few months after officially trying. 

It hasn't been without its worries.  I'm 35 years old and diabetic so I'm a high risk pregnancy already.  But, my A1c is sitting beautifully at 5.9 which, according to my endo, means that I may not have to take insulin at any point during the pregnancy.  It's quite the surprise since pregnant diabetics most likely will have to at one point.  My diet is even more strict though.  No aspartame, no diet drinks or foods, no caffeine, no yummy bologna or hot dogs or soft cheeses.   Ouch.  But, it's for the greater good.  I've been a walking fool as well.  With all these restrictions though, I've managed to lose 11 pounds and yet The Astronaut, as we've dubbed him/her, is growing and looking good.  

Given all this, I've never felt dumber in my entire life than I do right now mostly because I haven't really experienced any pregnancy symptoms such as morning sickness.  It gets me worried that I haven't but, my doctor says it's ok.  Everything going on with me is normal, and that eases my worries.  Thank goodness for books and understanding doctors.  

So, here I am.  All knocked up and scared to death.  It's going to be a good trip.

Merry New Year!

And just like that, 2011 is over.  My 2011 New Year's Resolution was to make a list of places to eat at that either I had never been to or it'd been a while.  

As you can see, I didn't make it.  It sucks but oh well.  Perhaps in the new year I can finally make there but in Houston, many new and yummy restaurants open up and well, may as well add them to The List.  I'm not going to make a new list though.  If I make it, I make it.

My New Year's Resolution for 2012 though is to focus more on my own health.  According to my own doctor's, I'm doing very well.  But, with diabetes, I want to get better.  I always want to get better.

A much better update to follow detailing how I spent my summer and fall and the beginning oh winter.  

Beef jerky time.