I went to the doctor yesterday. It was not a pre-scheduled appointment. However, I thought I had a bladder infection. Never having experienced one, I was unfamiliar with the signs/pains/indications and called the office to find out if I needed to be concerned.
Note to self: Medical malpractice fears will cause doctor's offices to ALWAYS be concerned and offer extra appointments in order to cover their bottoms on the off chance that I am a lawsuit-happy mother to be. Turns out, I have no infection whatsoever. Instead, the pains were another phenomenon with which I am unfamiliar: The stretching of uterine tendons/ligaments to make more space for my growing little Eschler.
(Can I go on a completely unrelated tangent for a second? Is it weird to any other women that you gestate someone who carries on the DNA and name of people you may never meet? I LOVE my husband's family. It is a bit surreal, though, that my baby will carry the last name of people who got into covered wagons and settled the west. I know my child will feel a strong connection to that heritage, as I do to those who passed through Ellis Island. It was just an unexpected sensation when we visited Nathaniel's father's family and realized this particular quarter of my child's heritage get to provide him or her with the surname that will be an earliest identifier. I love these people and am thrilled to have chosen so wisely when deciding on a family unit. However, it's an odd realization. Perhaps an overly obvious one, as well. Tangent over.)
So, while the intermittent pains with which I was so unfamiliar were easily explained, the urinalysis demonstrated another troubling sign which brought back a conversation I was not eager to have: there were small amounts of sugar in my urine.
Practicing the self advocacy skills I champion for so many of my clients, I summoned the most respectful, articulate version of myself I could as I tearfully realized that exercise and diet modification may never be able to compensate for crappy DNA. After an entertaining engagement with the nurse and doctor wherein I explained that the 90 pound yoga addicts that usually offer nutritional advice to chubby Italian-Hispanic girls were NOT high on my list of people to chat with during pregnancy, I was able to reach a very reasonable compromise. I would not have to do the 3 hour glucose test and resulting in longer term "nutritional" consultation. In exchange, I would monitor my own blood sugar, create a journal, and interact with my medical professionals consistently throughout the rest of my pregnancy.
This arrangement works better for me for several reasons:
1. If the 3 hour test came back saying I DON'T have gestational diabetes, we may be tempted not to pay attention to sugar issues during pregnancy. I am insulin resistant - I have sugar issues. I am not ready to call it gestational diabetes, nor am I convinced I will develop it. However, I readily admit I need to pay attention to this issue during my pregnancy.
2. My mother NEVER got the readings on her 3 hour tests that indicated she needed help. It was only through a consistent monitoring of her blood sugar that she saw her body's behavior and was able to correct it through diet and exercise.
3. I greatly reduce the risk of damaging the relationship with my doctor's office that may have resulted from going 12 hours without food, with high sugar drinks.
4. I feel more in control. I typically know what is going on in my body and am sensitive to the point that I knew my baby was there before I should have known. I like that I am learning about my body and how best to care for myself during this exceptional time period.
I am going to see the practice's nutritionist (who the doctor told me while laughing weighs no more than 90 pounds) and told the doctor I would listen to anything specific to pregnancy. I am getting my own machine and strips and will be testing my blood sugar 3 times daily. Hence, feel free to call me "Pokey." The calluses on my fingers should make for a particularly attractive third trimester.
On the bright side of the news, I was told that my weight gain was perfect. While I feel gross, the doctor assured me I am WELL WITHIN what is normal for pregnancy thus far and can probably increase my caloric intake - a phrase no doctor has ever told me :) Additionally, the doctor told me that it is evident I am caring well for myself. All other health indicators are normal: good cholesterol levels, 117/76 blood pressure, regular pulse rate, etc. She told me my kidneys may just be hypersensitive, as is common during pregnancy. She agreed that slow, consistent monitoring will give a better picture of my gestational needs at this point and that she wants me to continue advocating for myself. She also pushed my next appointment out for 3 weeks so that we can discuss these issues more fully after time to monitor has passed. That means Piccolino will be gender neutral in our dialogue until November 10. However, for that visit, Nathaniel and I get to see our favorite doctor in the practice - worth the wait, if you ask us!
The rest of the day continued stressfully - mortgage issues, working 2 jobs, trying to catch up on work I am behind on, etc. However, I feel like I struck a blow for critical thinking and logical approaches to the metabolic and gestational needs of chubby Italian-Hispanic girls everywhere. I realize that "blow" means I am puncturing my skin 3 times daily. Oddly, at this point in my life, that is a win.
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