Only problem is ... well, my coworkers. 

They're freaking animals.

Prussia takes meetings constantly, and is always on conference calls.  (Oh, it must be Wednesday.  She's wearing her Wednesday tie.)

And Abby, who poses as management, doesn't do anything other than go back and forth between her desk and the kitchen, muttering about how she's the only one with thumbs who gets things done around this place.  Seriously, I'm debating reporting her because she's thinks she's purrfect (sorry - couldn't resist!) and that her litterbox doesn't stink or something.

(I apologize for the above post.  This is what happens when Chris and I end up at Target, find ourselves staring aimlessly down the aisle with 50,000 choices in baby diapers, and end up buying what is tagged on our receipt as "cat apparel.")

Until I realized it just wasn't working.

So I pulled the set at about 2 in the morning, restarted a new site, and tried to get some sleep.  But by this time, a roaring headache had set in.  I'm not sure if it was caused by the high, the frustration, or dumb luck, but my dome was throbbing all night long.

I woke up with the headache. I don't get headaches often at all, so having one was a big deal.  And "headache" was one of the main symptoms my doctors at Joslin told me to keep an eye out for, as far as signs of preeclampsia go.  Fantastic. 

So, being the genius that I am, I decided to sleep in on Sunday, stay very hydrated, and then go to a hockey game in Providence with my sister-in-law and her husband STEVE.  (Hocky game when trying to ward off a headache?  WTF was I thinking?)  The game was great, I had a chance to hang out with my always-entertaining and adorable niece M, but being surrounded by a bunch of happy, screaming kids and adults cheering on the P-Bruins made for an epic crescendo of said headache.

Chris and I ducked out a little bit early, and on the way back to our place, I called the doctor on-call at Joslin to give them the run-down.

"I have had this headache for about 12 hours.  But it came on after a bad night with a stubborn high blood sugar, so it's hard for me to say what's caused what."

The medical team recommended that I go home, take my blood pressure, drink water, take Tylenol, and have a cup of coffee to help make a dent in this headache.  They said they would call me back in an hour and a half to check on my progress.

"Seriously, I'm not concerned.  Dude, go to the movies with your friends.  I'll call you if, for some reason, they decide they want me to go to the emergency room or something.  But I seriously doubt they'll want me to," I said to Chris.  He took some convincing, but I felt okay - just a headache.  I had the very same discussion with NBF over the phone as I waited for Joslin to call back.  "No, they are just going to tell me to go to bed or something.  No worries, my friend."

Ha, ha.  And ha.  Joslin called back, I confirmed that the headache wasn't gone yet, and the doctor recommended that I head to the emergency room so that the baby could be monitored and I could have labwork run.  "Preeclampsia can come on quickly, and we aren't taking any chances," they said.

"Chris - just kidding.  Joslin wants me to to go to the ER."  I texted him.

"I'm leaving right now."  He responded.

So we spent four hours in the emergency room on Sunday night, checking on our little biscuit of a BSparl.  They drew labwork on me to screen for preeclampsia (no indicators, thankfully), checked my urine (no protein, - also a good sign), monitored my blood pressure (which was fine), and hooked my abdomen up to a few sensors to keep track of baby girl. 

"Every time she moves, press this button so we can track how active she is in there.  When you press the button, a green line will show up on the graph up there, see?"  The nurse pointed at the computer screen, where the baby's heartbeat was being graphed.

"No problem."  (BSparl must have loved all the attention, and maybe she liked listening to the episode of House that was on in the hospital room, because she filled that graph with green lines for 45 minutes as a result of her dancing.  Busy little baby bee.)

After a few hours, the ER doctors talked with my team at Joslin and everyone determined that I was okay to go home.  The baby wasn't at risk, I seemed to be okay, and the only issue was this lingering, nagging headache.  They prescribed extra strength Tylenol (bye bye, Dexcom for a few days) and this other medication that is intended to treat nausea in pregnancy but has been used to manage headaches, as well.  Hydration, sleep, relaxing, and medication were my recommended course of treatment.

What's the point of this post?  I have no idea.  I'm just rambling these days.  :)  It seems like everything is a pushed panic button when it comes to high-risk pregnancies (any pregnancy, I'd guess, but I only know my own so intimately), but I do have a kick-ass team when it comes to managing potential emergencies on a Sunday evening.  The headache still hangs on, but the medication is making it manageable, and I'm hoping it's totally gone by the time I head to Rhode Island for my baby shower on Sunday.

Counting down the weeks until BSparl arrives and makes her little mark in this world.  She comes with a how-to manual, right?  ... Where's that headache medication ... ?

The people at Joslin are eventually going to lock the doors when they see me coming.  Because last Friday, at my latest round of BSparl appointments, I burst into tears a few dozen times. 

I am not a crier.  I'm very emotional, but can usually keep my emotions well-contained until I'm back in the safety of my friends or family, and then I let loose.  But with just over six weeks until the baby arrives, I'm the definition of a basketcase.

Arriving at Joslin, I was on time.  For once.  And sporting hands clad in wrist braces and ankles sheathed in compression stockings.  Again, hot momma.  ;)  This puffiness was my top concern that I wanted to talk with my obstetrician about, so it was good that I was at least exhibiting the signs, so she could see Le Puff first hand.

During the first appointment, Dr. T lubed up my belly and we took a peek at Ms. BSparl.  

"Wow, she's got a good head on her!"  

"Yeah, the Morrone kids, all of 'em, were born with these tremendously round, sunshine heads.  We're like little moons orbiting around.  My niece and nephew were absolutely adorable, and they had the same beautiful, round heads."

"Well your daughter appears to have that head.  She's perfectly round!"  Dr. T took some measurements and determined that BSparl was about 4 lbs, 11 oz at this stage.  "She's on track to be about 8 lbs, 5 oz, it seems.  She's in the 58th percentile, and I'm very happy with that."

"Is she a little bigger because of my diabetes?"  (This question prompted the first set of tears - damn, I'm an emotional mess these days.)

"No.  If that was the case, her abdomen would be out of proportion, and her body is in perfect proportion.  She's just a little tiny bit bigger than average, but her size is not diabetes-related.  Your blood sugar control has been great.  How big was your husband when he was born?"

"He was 8 lbs, 8 oz.  And I was 7 lbs, 8 oz, I think."

"Right.  So your daughter is on track to land between the two of you.  It's completely normal."

And finally, finally, I saw my daughter's face on the ultrasound machine.  In previous checkups, BSparl had been spine up, face in, so her face was obscured by the placenta and I never had a good look at her.  A few other times, she had her hands up in front of her face, only letting us see a little bit of her.  But this time, she was pretty visible, and I could see her chubby cheeks, her button nose, and her father's lips. 

She has a face I can't wait to smooch.

After the ultrasound, Dr. T and I talked about her main concern:  my weight gain.  In the last month, I've put on 10 lbs, without reason.  My pants and shirts still fit the same, I haven't been eating more or less, and my numbers have been creepily stable, but the scale tipped out at 10 lbs heavier this visit.

"What the HELL is that about?"  I asked, ashamed that up until the beginning of March, I'd only gained 27 lbs with this pregnancy, but now I was already pushing the 35 lb mark ... with six weeks to go.

"Your feet.  Your legs.  And your hands.  I'm very concerned about this weight jump, not because of the weight itself, but because it's obviously water weight.  And I don't want any issues with pre-eclampsia cropping up."

(Enter the second set of tears from me.)   "I've been checking my blood pressure at home, and haven't seen any spikes.  But I'm puffy as all get out, and it's very, very uncomfortable.  No headaches, no trouble urinating, but puffy?  Yeah."

"I think we should run some blood work today to see if you have the blood indicators of pre-eclampsia.  It's not just the blood pressure and the headaches that are indicative of this issue.  By running the blood panel, we can see if your body is already gearing up to develop this problem, and we'll be prepared either way."

"Okay."  Blotting tears.  Such a mess.  "So we'll do that and an A1C and go from there?"

"That's the plan."

After a few other appointments, I headed home and focused on the weekend.  Dr. T called me on the ride home and said that my blood work came back perfectly, without a single blood panel indicator of pre-eclampsia and my urine also didn't show any protein spilling.  I felt reasonably at ease and comfortable with the fact that Le Puff was simply due to Le Pregnancy, and nothing more.

But there were some aggravating moments at Joslin, which deserve a whole separate post.  And the weekend?  Had plans on tap other than "relaxing." All is well, but it was a long and tangled experience.  More on that tomorrow.

But my life also included dozens of plastic bags filled with orange-capped syringes.  And black meter cases that zipped up the side and held my glucose meter.  And small vials of bandaid-scented insulin.  My childhood was colorful and fun and just like every other kids', but there were some dreary bits of diabetes management as a running thread.

I wish there had been things like this to hold my meter in when I was growing up with type 1 - because these meter cases are awesome:

This meter case was created by Kyrra Richards, who was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes in 2007.  I think it is GORGEOUS.  After her diagnosis, Kyrra created Myabetic - a specialty store stocked with playful and cool glucose meter cases.  She sent me a few of her meter cases to review here on SUM, and she also offered to share a little bit of her story.  

*   *   *

Kerri:  Hey Kyrra!  What’s your diabetes story?

Kyrra from Myabetic:  I grew up as a dancer and was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes after returning home from a dance tour in Afghanistan.  I had been performing for the troops at military bases and realized that I was out-eating soldiers in the dining facilities.  After guzzling down 24 water bottles in a day and a half, I finally went to the doctor and received my diagnosis just before my 25th birthday.  I began the endless cycle of doctor appointments, lab tests, educator meetings, and waiting rooms.  The physical changes were frustrating, but the emotional obstacles proved to be even more challenging.  I created Myabetic as a way to cope constructively with my diabetes.

Kerri:  How do you think that Myabetic can help make a difference for people with diabetes?  What gap are you guys filling?

Kyrra from Myabetic:  Myabetic was founded because I felt a need to personalize health management.  Although diabetes is a constant struggle, we have the opportunity to take control of our treatment.  Upon my diagnosis, I lacked the motivation and self-worth to properly care for my condition.  Using the standard-issue nylon case only made me feel more ‘sick.’  I personalize so much of my life – my cell phone, computer, license plate – why not do it with healthcare?  We are all strong, unique individuals, and I wanted our daily testing accessories to reflect our personalities.

Kerri:  What made you want to become more involved in the diabetes community?

Kyrra from Myabetic:  The most rewarding aspect of Myabetic has been the opportunity to contribute to our supportive, accepting community.  People with diabetes are passionate and strong!  It’s time that our accessories and equipment make us feel the same way.  I love carrying around our cases and am excited to share our products with everyone.  I know they can make a difference and bring smiles to healthy faces.  (Especially since I jumped for joy when my diabetes educator gave me a bunch of purple lancets – it’s the little things…)

Kerri:  If people want to find out more about your products, or want to order a meter case for themselves, how can they get in touch with you?

Kyrra from Myabetic:  We currently have cases for men, women, and children available on our website, Myabetic.  We would love to have everyone become a fan of Myabetic on Facebook and/or follow us on Twitter.  Check out the Community section of our website to find the links.  Also, if anyone would like to contact me directly, my email address is krichards (at) myabetic.com.

*   *   *

Thank you so much for sharing your talents with us, Kyrra!  And in the interests of full disclosure (also known as TMI), I'm sending the free samples I've received from Kyrra onward to some very kind readers who have reached out over the years.  One good turn, right?

(I'm off to Joslin for the day - have a great weekend!!)

WRONG!

Those perpetuating the rumor that pregnancy is only nine months long, I beg you to stop.  Because when we, the pregnant messes, crest up to the eight month mark, only to realize that there are eight weeks left to go?  We cry.  Sometimes we just bust out crying.  Because pregnancy is 40 weeks long, and when you divide 40 (weeks in total) by 4 (weeks in a month) ... well, even I can do that math.  It equals 10.  Ten months. 

So I'm eight months along, but I've got seven weeks left to go.

(Yes, this shirt is the same one that my best friend wore to her baby shower.
Nothing says "I love you" more than sharing maternity clothes.)

Expansion is rapid these days, and my pregnant body has gone from "comfortable" to "OMG, TEN MONTHS LONG?"  On the regular ol' pregnancy front, I'm experiencing some wicked swelling in my hands and feet, but thankfully my blood pressure is still holding steady.  Also thankfully, it's been warming up for the last few days, so sporting flip flops doesn't look too dorky.

Sleeping is an issue, though.  I'm having a miserable time getting a good night's sleep, because this swelling in my hands is waking me up with shooting pains in the middle of the night.  Actually, every hour or so I'm waking up with pain, despite the fact that I'm wearing wrist braces to bed.  I may have to bite the bullet and take some Tylenol, even though it will render my Dexcom pointless. (Tylenol makes the Dexcom throw inaccurate results, and I can't take Advil while pregnant, so it's about choosing pain or accurate CGM results.)  I'm trying to relax and remember that it's only a few more weeks of this.

On the diabetes front (and I'm afraid to say this out loud), I seem to have hit some kind of stride.  The 300's are gone.  The 240's are gone.  I'm seeing a few spikey 200's, but they are sometimes explainable (like after I was 50 mg/dl and I over treated a low) and some I just need to forgive myself for.  Overall, my numbers are steadier and I'm seeing more flat lines on the Dex than I saw a few weeks ago.  I'm so, so hopeful that the next seven weeks roll out in the same fashion.  My total daily insulin dosage is up to between 68 - 75 units of Humalog a day (far cry from the 24 - 28u I was taking pre-BSparl), and I'm wondering if this will remain the case until the delivery.  I'm holding my breath, praying that things just hold freaking steady for a little longer.

This week, I'll see my OB/GYN and the rest of my prenatal team, and I have a lot of questions to ask.  Like what happens if I go into labor before my scheduled delivery date?  What exactly is supposed to be that "bag that stays packed just in case?"  What can I do to alleviate this swelling, in efforts to stay comfortable for the next seven weeks?  How about those four days we'll be spending in the hospital - will I be able to wear my pump once the c-section is over?  Can I put the Dexcom back on at that point, too?  Does the baby sleep in the room with us or does she have to go to a different part of the hospital while I recover?  Will I be on painkillers after the surgery?  Does someone show me how to breastfeed or is that something I'm supposed to take a class for beforehand? 

Are they really going to trust me with a BABY??

(The question mark has become the most-used key on my laptop these days.)    

But things took a different sort of path, and suddenly Google had a solid grip on my name.  Which, again, was okay with me because I'm making these personal disclosure choices on a case-by-case basis.  So for anyone willing to give Google a go, it's easy to find my photo, some of my health conditions and treatment choices, and that I've married into a new, more challenging name.  There's a lot of information out there that I have chosen to share, for better or for worse. 

In some cases, it's "better" for me to use my real name and share my real experiences because blogging has not only helped me achieve better health, emotionally and physically, in regards to life with type 1 diabetes, but it's helped connect me with you guys, and that has been a game changer.  Blogging has also given me some very special opportunities to help make a difference when it comes to diabetes advocacy, and that has been tremendous in fueling both my own health and my career.  And honestly, having diabetes and talking about it doesn't make me feel shy.  I like sharing my stories, and hearing yours, and connecting with people who really and truly "get it."  I felt alone for way too long.  The impact of blogging on my overall health is something I can't put a value on. 

In other cases, it's "worse" for me to not blog anonymously, because now any potential employer can send a query into Google and see that I have type 1 diabetes.  Would that make them less likely to hire me?  More likely?  No change at all?  Either way, that information about my personal health is out there, and I can't take it back.  And not just health information, but personal information.  Real life information.

Disclosure on a blog isn't just about letting people know about free samples, or advertisements, or sponsorship opportunities.  That stuff is important, on a level of maintaining integrity and letting people know they can trust you to tell the truth, the whole truth, and only add some crap about cats occasionally. 

But I've been thinking about how disclosure will be handled, going forward, when it comes to my daughter.  From the moment I found out she was blooming inside of me, I felt instantly protective of this little biscuit.  Chris and I have talked extensively about how we want to handle our child's identity in regards to our respective projects, and we both agree that she hasn't decided to become part of the Google matrix yet.  So we aren't going to put her there.  This is a decision that we, as a family, have made, but it doesn't mean that it's the right choice for everyone.  There is no "right choice," in my opinion - just varying perspectives and levels of comfort.  (And who know how I'll feel once she's here and her little face is just too chubby-cute not to want to post a photo of.)  It's a lot to think about.

If my daughter decides, when she's older, to have a Facebook page or a blog or whatever is the social networking "thing" to do by that time, she can make that decision for herself.  But I don't want her to Google her own name and find more than she's comfortable with. (... That is the weirdest thought ever, picturing myself talking about blogging with my daughter over like coffee or something.  The thought just made me grin.)  Hopefully she won't object to being called BSparl. 

How do you guys handle disclosure?  Are you comfortable sharing your full name and occupation with people?  What kind of information to you like to keep private, and what do you feel comfortable sharing 100% with anyone who asks?  Have you ever had any regrets about how you've chosen to present yourself online?  For those of you with kids, what helps you decide what to share, and when, and how much of it to share? 

Sorry for all the questions, but as the baby grows daily, so does my protective nature.  And so does my laundry list of questions. 

BSparl and I almost at the 32 week mark, and I'm rocking what I've heard is a very common, but very uncomfortable symptom of pregnancy - swelling.  Water retention.  Puffiness.  Or, as I call it when I'm frustrated but more like Pepe Le Pew-frustrated when he can't get his mitts on that black cat: "Le Puff."  

The first half of my pregnancy was very comfortable.  No morning sickness and no real discomfort, just the growing potbelly and lots of blood sugar lows.  Second trimester was good enough (just got bigger and bigger) but now, deep into the third trimester, I'm starting to really feel the burn.  This puffy hands thing isn't just a mild complaint.  "Le Puff" is serious stuff! 

It's a combination of puffiness and pregnancy-induced carpal tunnel syndrome, with my hands aching and often seized with that 'pins and needles' feeling.  Wearing a wrist brace while I work helps a little, but not enough, and I find myself taking more and more long breaks to ease the pain in my hands from typing.  I wear the brace to bed, too, in efforts to keep my hands in a "neutral position" throughout the night. (Neutral, instead of like flipping Chris off at 2 am?  Would that be an "offensive position?")  And today, I'm off to get a second brace for my left hand, which will make me officially robotic while I sleep, with the two braces, the pump, the Dexcom, and this massive belly.

Like I said ... total hot momma.  :p

So one of the treatments for this miserable symptom - oddly enough, is more water.  It seems counter-intuitive to down a bottle of water when I'm feeling at the peak of Le Puff, but staying hydrated is the best way for me to keep the puff at bay.  And I'm also being monitored closely for pre-eclampsia, seeing as how I have a few of those risk factors in play (first pregnancy, diabetes, pre-existing hypertension ... good times again!). My blood pressure, and the other signs of pre-eclampsia, are being closely watched for, so hopefully no worries.

My next round of doctor appointments (and the beginning of the bi-weekly visit routine) is late next week, so I'm doing what I can to stay off my feet these days and prop them up while working.  Exercise is a little bit of a trouble spot, too, because shoving Le Puff feet into non-Le Puff sneakers is proving tricky on some days, but I've been trying to supplement with in-house yoga and stretching exercises (while barefoot).  And I'm resting a lot, which makes me feel like a lazy bum, but people keep telling me to get these naps in BEFORE the little biscuit arrives, so I'm taking their advice.

In the meantime, I'll Stay Puft.

But since type 1 diabetes is what I'm most familiar with, and I couldn't help but spin every question in relation to my own health condition.  This question, in particular, threw me:

I get a lot of questions from blog readers.  (I ask a lot, too.)  Lots from family members.  Some from new friends, some from old buddies.  Some from people I've dated in the past.  And so many from Chris, as we learned about one another and planned for our future together.

The toughest question I've had to answer about diabetes is very direct, and completely innocent.  I've been asked this question over and over again, and have sometimes even asked it of myself.

"Will you be okay?"

It's such a simple question, but I know the words that are missing from the beginning and the end.  "You have diabetes ... will you be okay?  Or will you have complications?"

There are days when I'm certain of the answer.  "I'll be fine.  I'm working hard - I'll be just fine."  These are the days when I'm having a decent run on the Dexcom graph, and the average on my machine is under 120 mg/dl, and I'm feeling strong.  When I feel like diabetes is on the peripheral, and not the focus.

Other days?  Seems like the answer should be "Nope."  Those are the days when I'm screwing up every carb count, when my numbers are pinging from one end of the spectrum to the other without spending even 15 minutes 'in range,' and when I feel whipped by what this disease requires, physically and mentally.

I can do so much to protect my body from this disease.  I can test my blood sugar all day long, and really try hard to immediately correct the highs and quickly treat the lows.  I can keep a good attitude about things and realize that while my diabetes isn't completely in my control, my attitude can be, for the most part. 

But I'm never sure, and I hate when my brain starts to think too much about my control of the future.  I've written before about how diabetes complications are from diabetes, not from my lack of or emphasis on effort.  It comes down to us doing our best, our very best, to stay on top of our physical health as we remain tuned in to our mental health.  The last few weeks, with such a heavy focus on my diabetes management and with every breath (mine and my baby's) being tracked by my medical team, I'm hitting a level of burnout that I've never felt before.  I'm trying to stay focused on the end result - holding the baby!! - and that helps keep me grounded for a few more days.  I am pretty damn sure I'll be okay, overall, and even if my body has some physical hiccups as I spend more and more time with type 1 diabetes, I'm hopeful that a good attitude will see me through the tougher times.

"Will you be okay?"

Sometimes I just have to shrug and say what's really in my heart:  "I hope so."  And then a grin.  "I plan on it."

Knowing what kind of bizarre things happened to me as a kid, I am already braced for when BSparl toddles over to me and tells me she fit four Cheerios up her nose.  So, like I said, Chris and I are starting to think about our pediatrician options.

I'm not looking for specific recommendations for doctors, but more the questions that you ask your child's doctor.  Do you interview a pediatrician like you'd interview a babysitter?  My OB/GYN suggested that Chris and I actually go meet a potential pediatrician and ask them a few questions, see how we feel about having this person as part of our child's life.  You know, get a feel for what it will be like to engage with this person.  So what kinds of questions should I be asking a potential pediatrician?  The ones that jump to mind don't seem right to me:

"Do you like children?"  (I'd hope so.)
"What made you want to be a pediatrician?"
"We have some chronic illnesses in our family.  What's your familiarity with diabetes, etc?"
"Do you like cats?"  (Not relevant.)
"Do you take our insurance?"
"How long will we need to call in advance of making an appointment?"
"How many fingers am I holding up?"  (Three.)

While I'm not worrying about whether or not my child will end up with type 1 diabetes, I do realize that there is a slightly increased risk.  And I want to have a doctor who is able to work with Chris and I through our decisions to pursue TrialNet, and other research studies, as we keep close tabs on BSparl's health.  So it's time to start putting together our questions and subjecting some poor soul to our curiosities.  

Any suggestions on how to find a pediatrician?  And do you know how many fingers I'm holding up?