Moody, Pregnant Mess.
(This is one of those posts I'll write, and then promptly wish I hadn't written, but then revisit in a few weeks and be thankful that I let these emotions out. But for now, I want to hide in bed and stay there all day, even though I can't sleep because my guilt is keeping me awake.)
I am not sure what's causing what, but my emotions feel like they're in a tailspin today. Over Friday and Saturday, I had blood sugars that seemed like they came straight from the store - shiny, flat, and steady, with the Dexcom showing me a straight line for over 24 hours (aside from one very small spike after pineapple and cottage cheese on Saturday morning) and with the meter confirming this anomaly every hour or so. And BSparl was poking and kicking around in there, letting me know that she was alive and okay and having a good time floating in her safe, amniotic sea.
And then, for absolutely no reason, I had two rotten lows in a three hour span. Rotten as in sweaty, dizzy, Dexcom wailing at me, orange juice spilled on the kitchen floor due to downing it too quickly from the carton kind of lows. Lows that left me needing a nap and feeling physically compromised.
And I worried about her - this little friend I'm building.
Of course, these lows were followed by highs. Tricky highs - ones that made my mouth dry and my head hurt and my blood sugar average leap up by at least 20 points all on their own. Highs that made me test, bolus, and then go into the bathroom and cry because I felt so guilty about what I was doing to myself and to this little kid. (Granted, the crying part may have happened because of the hormone influx, but I can't tell what's causing what these days.)
I have these books that I bought after finding out about BSparl - volumes with titles like "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and "I'm Pregnant!" - and for weeks, I pored through them and read all about how the baby was growing from a little cluster of cells into a creature with arms and legs and a beating heart. But these books all come with what I call the "scary chapters," about complications and all the crap that can go wrong during pregnancy. I skimmed these chapters at the outset, felt completely overwhelmed and terrified, and decided to not read them anymore. Then we had the scare with the bleeding back in September (where I was about 7 weeks along and there were no problems detected, but my heart remained in my throat for ... actually, not sure if it's come down at all yet), and I decided that I wanted to stick my head in the sand and pretend that nothing bad is even possible. Every pregnant woman has a healthy, happy pregnancy, and that's it. There are no other options.
I know that diabetics have healthy babies all the time. And that in the grand scheme of things, it's not about each individual blood sugar, but the general gist of how my blood sugars are running. But I've only read about other people's pregnancies. I've never been pregnant before, and all of these feelings, both physically and emotionally, are so new to me. Even though there are so many examples of families before me who have taken this journey and come out safely and happy on the other side, I've never done it before. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm scared a lot of the time because I don't want to hurt her.
This morning, after going to bed at a blood sugar of 119 mg/dl, I woke up around 5:45 am at 293 mg/dl. I bolused, tested for ketones (none), drank a bottle of water to hydrate my sandpaper throat, and then climbed back into bed.
(Mind you, this high was on the same basals that have had me waking up under 100 mg/dl for three days running.)
And couldn't sleep.
My mind keeps freaking out, going back to the scary chapters. And no amount of rationalization (it's just a few hours high, it's just one blood sugar, it's just one bad day, everyone has those bad days, the baby is okay, you're okay) could make my mind quiet. I just feel like a failure, frustrated to tears because no matter how much technology we have access to as modern-day diabetics, we still have diabetes. And this obscene disease looks so quiet from the outside, but it rages on inside of me every day, even when I'm working so hard to pretend to be cured for my daughter.
It's going to be better. Now that I've finished this post, my number is back down to 131 mg/dl and falling slowly, and within the next 20 minutes or so, I'll be back in range. And I'm hoping that I can stay on top of things today and keep her safe.
Six months pregnant tomorrow.
I've never wanted anything more than this, in my entire life. I might sound overly dramatic or obsessive or frantic, but I can't lie. This baby girl is so important to me, and she may be the only child we have. She's what I've been thinking about for years, and she just rolled inside of me right now, as if to say, "It's cool, mommy. Stop freaking out. Let's have pancakes!"
I should make her some pancakes.
(I feel better now. Thank you for listening, you guys.)