Twelve Weeks and Counting

Today I had my first follow-up since getting diagnosed with gestational diabetes. It definitely didn't go the way I thought it would. My numbers overall haven't been horrible. Over the last week, I had two instances where my sugar level was over my limit. To me, that seemed really good. Wrong.

Let's see, first of all, I'm not getting enough calories. I managed to lose three pounds over the last week and apparently that's not a good thing. Second, I'm not getting quite enough carbs. I'm supposed to have 13 to 15 choices a day. My average is 9.5. Last, I'm not getting enough protein so I somehow have to figure out how to incorporate even more. So what does this mean? Basically I have one more week to try and straighten everything out or they'll make me go on insulin.

Here's why I'm pissed: I've barely had time to adjust to the fact that I have gestational diabetes. This is a lifestyle change for the next several weeks, one that I wasn't prepared for. I'm not used to counting my carbs and making sure every meal I eat is mostly balanced. So now I only have one more week to try and figure it out? That seems a bit extreme to me.

I am a horrible eater. I fully admit that. But it's really hard to try and get everything packed into one meal and still make sure my glucose level doesn't go over the top. Today at lunch and supper I ate more than I think I eat in one day, per their request. My levels were under the limit but not by much. So where's the give and take in all of this?

I'm so over this pregnancy. Don't get me wrong...I'm not sorry I'm pregnant. We struggled a lot to even get this baby as far as he is and I can't wait to hold him and love up on him. I just hate what being pregnant is doing to me. I can't even enjoy it anymore. At this point, I'm counting down the days until this is done.

The Fear of the Poke

Yesterday I got confirmation that I do indeed have gestational diabetes. I had to take the three-hour glucose test over a week ago and unfortunately didn't pass so I was sent to a specialist. I walked into that appointment completely freaked out over what this might mean. Was I going to have to give up my beloved diet coke? What would I do if they told me I had to check my blood sugar each day? And worst of all, what if I had to take insulin? I hate needles, in case you hadn't figured that out. And I know I have tattoos but that is completely different.

I was pleasantly surprised by the appointment. The nurse who did my consultation explained what it meant to have gestational diabetes and how it would be handled. I have to count my carbs but as I was looking over the recommended meal plan, I realized I have to eat way more than I thought I did. I just have to cut out pop and sweets. And my beloved diet coke is still something I can have. Yay!

The only piece I'm not happy about is having to poke my finger 4 times a day. My eyes literally filled with tears when she handed me the glucose monitor. I had to try it out there to make sure I knew how to use it. I sat there for so long with that little device pressed to my finger before I got the courage to push the button. And honestly, it was not nearly as painful as I thought it would be.

I know I'll get through this. It's just 13 more weeks of my life (or less if baby boy decides to listen to his mama and come a little bit early). I can't promise that someday I won't try to kill you for a cupcake. But as my nurse said, it's ok to have a treat of some kind on a special occasion. It's just not ok to have them every day. At least until the baby is born and then all bets are off.

And just to be clear, if I want advice, I will ask for it. I don't need lectures and I don't need people breathing down my neck about what I am eating. I am a big girl and I can handle this. I probably sound like a bitch but every pregnancy is different and what works for one person may not work for another. So this is between me and my doctor and no one else.

This is not a death sentence. If anything, this is preparing me for getting back into shape once he's born. Ok, let's be honest, once the holidays are past. Nothing will keep me from my holiday baking.

Why Turning 34 Just Plain Sucked

Well it happened. My birthday that is. Last Friday was the big 3-4. Definitely not a milestone but one year closer to being that much closer to 40. I'm not afraid of turning 40 but it's looming on the horizon a lot quicker than I anticipated.

To say I enjoyed my birthday is like saying the bear in the Great Outdoors enjoyed getting shot in the butt. It definitely did not make my top 10 birthdays. It didn't start off horrible. I kept Rowan out of daycare so he could go down to old daycare and play with the kids. Our old daycare lady is retiring this week so I wanted to give her a chance to hang out with him again. So I dropped him off for a couple of hours and went shopping. I made myself feel better that it was my birthday but snagging myself a lovely new handbag. Picture glitter where the lace is and you'll have a general idea of what it looks like.

The afternoon wasn't too bad, either, except for the fact that Rowan didn't actually sleep during naptime. So what did he do when we were driving to Apple Valley to go out for supper? Why sleep of course. We had to run a couple of errands first so we took turns sitting in the car with him so he'd get some decent sleep. You would have thought that would have helped once he actually woke up, but alas, it did not.

Dinner was less than pleasant. It was one meltdown after another ranging from not wanting to eat any fruit to freaking out because the chicken was on his plate even though I finally told him he didn't have to eat it because I was tired of fighting with him. The best part was getting a free birthday burger out of the deal.

Afterwards we went to a friend's house for dessert, where the fun of having a crabby three-year old continued. Rowan started the evening by pulling out an irrigation tube that had just got installed (luckily Brian and Glenn got it back in) and ended it with a full-on screaming and crying meltdown because we wouldn't let him have a mini sundae cone because he didn't actually finish his push up. Yeah, we're mean parents.

I was sick of dealing with him at this point so we loaded him in the car and went home. Home was 10 minutes away. That entire 10 minutes was filled with screaming about how he wasn't going to go into timeout or go to bed, that he was a good listener, and how he still wanted that sundae cone. At one point I had to bite my lip so that I wouldn't start crying because I was so tired of listening to him.

We've been trying very hard to not argue back because it doesn't do any good. That works in theory but at some point you just hit your breaking point. And of course, being pregnant amplifies everything x 10. I know it's just a phase he's going through. He's three, for god's sake. But I'm struggling enough with the added hormones, not being able to take my anxiety medication, and still dealing with house crap after 5 months and I don't know how much more I can take. I know we're given what God thinks we can handle and apparently he thinks I can tolerate a lot but I'm over it all. This baby cannot get here quick enough.

So, there you have it. It was definitely one of the crappier birthdays I've had but I got lots of well wishes through texts, phone calls, and Facebook, which definitely helped. One more year in the books. At least next year I can actually drink on my birthday.

Small Town Girl in the Big City

As most of you know, I grew up in small town Iowa. Lake Mills, Iowa to be exact. Generally, people are not familiar with it seeing as how it is a town of 2,300 people. But if you know where the casino is on I35, head 14 miles west and you'll hit it.

Growing up in a small town was nice but had its challenges. Everybody knew everybody and if you managed to keep a secret, you should be heralded. One time I was cruising the loop after school (yes, it's a real thing) and this woman pulled out of the gas station parking lot right into the side of my car. So I pulled into the gas station, the cops were called, yadda, yadda, yadda. I hadn't even had a chance to process anything when the woman behind the counter came out to tell me my mom was on the phone (we didn't have cell phones at the time). Yup, my mom had heard about the accident even though it had only happened 5 minutes prior. Good times!

Small town life meant that you knew everyone in your class...and usually the entire high school. You may not have gotten along with everybody but you always had somebody to hang out with. And it usually meant something to do even though it may not be legal. I spent a lot of time driving around, wasting gas, and went to the occasional party at someone's farm.

I miss that small town, more than I thought I ever would. But I'm not ready to go back and I don't know if I ever will be. I love being able to drive 2 miles and hit a Target or Wal-Mart or Cub. Back in the day, the closest "big" towns were a half hour away so you couldn't just run there if you needed something when you were cooking. And don't kid yourself...we had a grocery store. It may have been in the middle of nowhere but we had a grocery store! And 4 bars but that's beside the point.

I knew I was destined to get out of that town. Not because it was bad but because I couldn't always be myself there. I am not the girl I was in high school. That girl was quiet (if you didn't know me), sometimes shy, and rarely stirred up trouble. She wasn't in the "popular" crowd but she had a great group of friends, who she is still friends with to this day. The woman I am today is loud, funny, swears like a sailor, considers sarcasm her second language, and while she may be overweight, she doesn't let that hold her back from accomplishing things like running a 10-miler.

I always felt judged in that town so I went out of my way to be sure I didn't bring attention to myself. Looking back I can't believe how stupid that sounds. Of course people are going to judge you. That's how life goes and it happens no matter where you live. I don't regret much and I wouldn't go back and change my general sense of being but if I got to do it over again, everyone would have seen the me I am today rather than the me I was back then. Life is about living and doing and most importantly, being happy. Go find your happiness. I'm getting better at finding mine.

We Grow Boys At Our House...Apparently

Well, it's official. There will be yet another boy to carry on the Jackson name. Glenn's side of the family consists of a long line of nieces. 5 of them to be exact. Rowan was the first boy to come along and we're lucky enough to get a second one to join him. It keeps things interesting.

Baby boy was fairly uncooperative during the ultrasound. He kept moving and at one point did a 180 so the tech had to keep fishing around to get decent pictures of him. We did manage to get the token "obvious" shot of the boy parts. At least we hope that's what it is.

Profile

Foot!

Boy parts

You'll have to excuse the kick ass photography. I didn't feel like breaking out the scanner last night.

The placenta is really close to my cervix so I have to do another ultrasound in 4 weeks to see if it shifts at all. My doctor didn't seem to be too concerned. Overall, everything looks good. Baby has two hands, two feet, and a strong heart. While I desperately wanted a little girl, I'm happy that we're getting another little man. Mostly we're just glad he's healthy and appears to be quite happy. Rowan was dead set that he was having a baby sister so we've been doing our best to convince him otherwise. I think he's got it down now.

And now we get to play the name game. When we named Rowan, that was the only name we could agree on. I made up a list of some names yesterday and surprisingly Glenn said he liked three of them. Three! And the best part is Rowan can say them all. There is hope yet!

Parenthood: One of Life's Biggest Worries

As a parent, you spend a lot of time worrying about your kids. From the moment that baby is placed in your arms, you are responsible for their well-being, which means you're dealing with cuts, scrapes, and all sorts of owies that come along with being a kid. And some of it can be scary. I mean, we barely got a chance to hold Rowan before he was sent off to the NICU for 5 days. I worried a lot those 5 days.

Rowan - 1 day old in the NICU

 

Now don't get me wrong...I'm not one of those overprotective parents who rushes their kid to the doctor every time they say something hurts. But I am the type who worries when their kid doesn't act quite like themselves. Hence, my current worry about Rowan.

Saturday afternoon Rowan spent almost 8 hours outside either in the pool, on the trampoline, or just running around in general. He then proceeded to sleep for 12.5 hours, woke up for an hour, and then took a nap. He was fine in the afternoon and yesterday but last night was complaining that his head hurt. This morning, same thing. Acted normal but said his head still hurt. I'm guessing it's just dehydration from being outside in the heat.

It just makes me nervous when he does things like this. And it's not the first time. He's acted strange before when he doesn't feel good but every time I ask him if he's ok, he says he's fine. He probably is. I'm just being paranoid mom today. I hate being paranoid mom. Even our daycare lady thinks he's fine and she was a nurse for 30-some years.

I think my paranoidness (not a real word but I'm using it anyway) is because we're finding out what we're having today. You're probably thinking, "what the hell does that have to do with anything?" and you'd be right! The two have nothing to do with each other besides the fact that in less than 5 months, we'll have another baby to worry about. I can barely handle one kid. Two scares me a little...twice the poop, twice the barf (at least during flu season), but also twice as much to love. And at least one will be out of diapers!

 

 

T-minus 1 hour until the big moment. Cross your fingers it's a girl!

Bacation, Had to Get Away

I love long weekends. Especially ones that are as long as the work week. They would be even better if I got to sleep in. Since we just built the house and are having another baby, we decided not to do a big vacation this year. Instead, Glenn and I took Rowan to Duluth for the weekend. But before we left, we had to do something with the dog. Luckily my parents were nice enough to take him so Wednesday night we headed to Iowa.

We stayed overnight so Rowan could see Grandma's new baby kitties. One of my mother's outdoor cats had three kittens last weekend and of course, Rowan couldn't wait to pet the babies. He's already traumatized our guinea pig so I wasn't sure how this would go. Surprisingly, he did quite well. He's excited for them to get bigger so he can play with them.

The 4th of July was exactly what I needed...casual. We got back from Iowa in the late morning and spent the afternoon at a friend's place. Her apartment building has a pool so Ang, Brian, Glenn, and I took all the boys over for a pool party. They loved every minute of it. I did too as the water makes me feel less like a hippo. I was so tired I didn't even stay up for fireworks.

Friday morning we left for "bacation" as Rowan calls it. We went to the zoo, the Great Lakes Aquarium, Gooseberry Falls, Split Rock Lighthouse and Canal Park.

Superman at Gooseberry Falls

Rowan and Mommy by Split Rock Lighthouse

Enjoying a icee!

Rowan wore his superman shirt (complete with cape) on Saturday. I've never had so many people comment on a shirt before. One lady even turned around so she could take a picture of him.

We had a good time but it was nice to come home, even though it was a short trip. My pregnant body doesn't move like it should so I was tired most of the time.

This weekend (after I survive day after day of committee meetings) is jam packed with fun. Car Cruise, Christmas in July, and a picnic. I just have to survive until Friday!