I opened this gift that arrived in the mail, and almost burst into tears because I hope, hope, hope this is the case for my daughter.
(This photo is also part of today's Diabetes 365)
I was thinking about how much planning and effort has gone into this pregnancy, from a diabetes perspective - never mind the regular gearing up that parents-in-training go through. Chris and I have worked very hard, as a team, to manage my diabetes in efforts to get pregnant, and now that BSparl is in there baking cookies (or whatever it is she does all day), diabetes focus has turned up even higher in our household.
I'm blowing through test strips like a champ, wearing the Dexcom to help me keep track of the constantly-changing numbers, using an insulin pump, trying hard to eat healthy (even though I'm currently weighing the pros and cons of a red velvet cheesecake - recipe link courtesy of my friend Elizabeth Arnold), and making feeble attempts to get a workout in here and there. Managing diabetes has become, seriously, a full-time job as my pregnancy rockets into the third trimester.
But I wonder what she'll think when she arrives. And how much things will change. Will she understand when I need to eat before she does, sometimes? Will she feel upset if I need a few minutes to get myself together before I'm able to play with her? Will she think I'm cramping her diaper bag style if I shove my meter in there, alongside her wipes and her binky? Will she wonder what's wrong with my priorities when I refuse to share my juice box with her on our future playground dates?
Will she understand that even though that t-shirt will only fit her for a few weeks and she may not even remember it, but will she know that her diabetic mommy loves her, and has loved her since the moment she knew she carried her?
(And will she forgive her for all the third-person dialog? Maybe not.)
I'm heading to Joslin again today, for the first of my four seven-months-pregnant appointments. Chris and I will see our baby girl through the magic of ultrasounds, and then I'll meet with my endocrinologist to discuss how my body is soaking up insulin like a sponge. Just a few more months until she's here, in our house, in our arms.
Baby girl, I hope you know how loved you are.
(This is part of a gift from my friend Lindsay, who I've never actually met in person, but I feel like I know, though emails and Facebook and blogging. Thank you again, Lindsay, for such a thoughtful gift! BSparl says thanks, too, only I can't really hear here because she's muffled by my enormous uterus. And potentially the sound of the oven *ding* as her cookies bake. Who knows?)