Dear Little Banana Pancake,

Dude, you are four months old.  (And yes, I'm calling you dude now, too.  Daddy is 'dude' and you are 'little dude.'  I sound like I'm about one President short of Point Break.)  Four months!!  

When I look at pictures of you from your birthday week and then ones from this past week, the differences are astounding.  You are developing a little personality now, and it's amazing to watch you come into your own.  You love being toted around in the Baby Bjorn.  You like to chow on the edges of your bibs and dresses and the little linky things that hang from your play mat.  Basically, you'll chew on anything that sits near you long enough.  (Watch out, Siah.)

In the last few weeks, you've made some big advancements.  I'm convinced that you say "Hi" now, because every morning we lean into your crib and greet you for about ten minutes straight.  "Hi!  Hi!  Hi!"  We sound like lunatics, but you laugh and kick your legs like you're Mini Pele, so it's worth every moment.  You also rolled over for the first time yesterday while we were at your Mema's house, rolling your chubby legs over and shifting your hips until you went from your back to your front.  And then, at home that night, you did the same thing, and then went from front to back.  Was this an epic moment in the span of humanity?  Nah, but it was a big moment in the life o' BSparl, because now you're on your way to becoming a mobile little biscuit.  (And NBF is excited, because once BSparl is crawling, we can race our kids.)  

Also, you've discovered your thumb.  First, you found your hands and spent many minutes staring at them as though you were tripping.  (Hey maaaaan ... fingers!)  But once the shock of realizing these little starfish were attached to your arms was past, you set upon eating them.  Entirely.  We'd find you trying to shove your whole hand into your mouth at any given moment, chomping on your little fingers with your tiny, toothless mouth.  After a week or so of trying to consume your hands whole, you gave up and decided to focus on that delicious little stem at the end.  And just like that, you became a little thumbsucker.  Daddy and I are already saving for the orthodontic work you may need in the future, but for now, we just get a kick out of watching you learn and grow.

Chompies on the thumb.

Your eyes are beginning to change a little, and they appear gray one day, hazel the next.  Will you be a brown eyed girl?  Only time will tell.  But your red hair is giving way to light brown, and it's falling out and growing back at such a rapid rate that I can't keep up.  (For the record, you looked adorable with male pattern baldness.)

This past month, you had your first overnight at Grampa's house, your first trip to the beach, and your first side-by-side car ride with your best friend (NBF's daughter).  You had your first run-in with my insulin pump (kicked it when you were flailing while burping - didn't like it very much, did you?) and your first wide-eyed response to the Dexcom wail. 

You are growing up so fast, little dude.  When I send photos off to be printed, you don't look like that anymore when they return.  As much as I'm excited to walk hand-in-hand with you and watch you run and hear your first words, sometimes I snuggle you close when no one is looking and whisper "Please, slow down."

Love you so much, pancake,
Mommy.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

I found out I was pregnant and I couldn't wait to know
If 'it's a boy' or 'it's a girl' I would spend nine months to grow.
I couldn't wait for her to show us that she was our little she.
I couldn't wait to see her dancing on the ultrasound TV.

I couldn't wait to touch her tiny hands or kiss her little nose.
I couldn't wait to count her fingers and to tickle little toes.
I couldn't wait for weeks to pass and my body to look round.
I couldn't wait to hear her heartbeat.  (I still love to hear that sound.)

I couldn't wait for docs to tell me it was time to meet our girl.
I couldn't wait for her to cry and let us know she's in the world.
I couldn't wait to dress her up in little socks and little dresses.
I couldn't wait to sing her songs and make her laugh and stroke her tresses.

I found out I was pregnant and I couldn't wait to meet
The little girl I worked so hard to build, from ears to arms to feet.
I couldn't wait to see her smile, to hear "Mama," to watch her crawl,
To go on trips, to see the world, to watch her grow, to Do It All.

But then this morning, as I fed her, I noticed that her little legs
Were stretching out in small pajamas that no longer were "too big."
And I noticed she was eating more than she had done before,
And that clothes all marked "newborn" were packed in boxes on the floor.

I found out I was pregnant and I couldn't wait to see
The daughter I was meant to have and hold her close to me.

And weeks, they pass in minutes, and she grows so very fast
That I can't wait to hold her close and hold these moments while they last.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

It's been almost 17 weeks since BSparl's birthday (yet it's not quite her four month mark yet - weirdness of weeks vs. months).  And even though I was planning to only breastfeed until she was about three months old, we're still going. 

Part of what's made the decision to continue breastfeeding easier is that I work from our home office.  There's no need for me to change out of my comfortable clothes (read: shorts and a t-shirt), I don't need to duck into a side room to use the breast pump, and I'm able to whip it out and feed her whenever I need to.  I am very grateful that I'm able to work from home at this point in BSparl's life.  I know this would have been a real challenge if I was working in-house at a company right now.

Another reason I want to continue is that the physical pain of breastfeeding is all but gone.  I'm not dreading the moment when she latches on (she's learned to be gentle), and since my milk production has leveled off to what's "needed" versus "here's EVERYTHING," I'm not experiencing that wicked pain of being really "full."  Also, on a diabetes tip, I'm not experiencing the same caliber of lows I was before.  Since I'm making less, my body isn't constantly processing and therefore isn't robbing me of my glucose stores. 

The third reason is that I am a huge fan of the convenience.  Every morning, I wake up and test my blood sugar first thing (yes, I've been sticking with it!) while Chris gets BSparl out of bed and changes her diaper.  And then I feed her.  She's total HappyTown in the morning (kicking her legs and grinning wildly) and I love the feeling of closeness in addition to the fact that we don't have to fumble around in the morning with a bottle.  (I also hate, hate cleaning out the bottles, so breastfeeding eliminates the need for doing more dishes.)

But it's not all rainbows and unicorns.  Breastfeeding does make it harder to have a more mobile schedule (i.e. having BSparl sleep over at her grandparents' houses, or letting me travel for work), so Chris and I, under the advisement of our pediatrician, have been supplementing with formula since just after the twelve week mark.  At first, I didn't have a lot of guilt about supplementing because it was only a bottle of formula here and there, but now I'm having sporadic feelings of guilt.

There are a LOT of mixed opinions about baby formula, diabetes notwithstanding.  But adding diabetes into the mix?  Whole new ballgame.  For instance, I've heard that you shouldn't give your infant milk-based formula.  That soy is the way to roll if you are a parent with type 1 diabetes.  Okay, but then I read many articles about the potential dangers of soy formula, saying that it could harm the baby.  Ooooohkay ... and then I asked my doctors (mine and BSparl's) for their opinion, and they couldn't confirm or deny either theory.  

Leaving us to wonder what's best.  

"Breast is best," gloats the lactation specialist at the hospital.

Sure, breast is best and we did our ... best breast for as long as we could.  But now baby girl is almost four months old and due to missing feedings (thanks to low blood sugars, etc), traveling for work (when baby is with a grandparent overnight), and other Life Things, my milk production has slowed down.  BSparl needs more and more as she gets bigger and bigger, and I just can't physically keep up.  So while "breast may be best," we are continuing to explore different formulas.  

Right now, we are finishing up a can of Enfamil "Gentlease" formula, which was recommended by BSparl's pediatrician to help combat the wicked acid reflux our daughter had for a few weeks.  But my preference has been to go the organic route, if I can, so we're now switching over to the Earth's Best Organic formula.  Yes, the cow's milk one, not the soy one (even though we have both cow's milk and soy versions in the house right now).  While avoiding cow's milk has been suggested as best to help avoid type 1 diabetes, I am having a hard time giving my daughter soy formula when the jury appears to be out on the effects of that.  There is no definitive answer on what to do, and there's no guarantee that you're going to safely dodge the diabetes bullet.  I've mentioned it before, but I was breastfed and my brother and sister were not.  Yet I have type 1, and they are fine.  Genetics are a crap shoot.

So while we're still breastfeeding for the most part, the bottles are creeping in there.  And I'm okay with that.  It's about what works best for the family, and so far, this system is working out for us.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBacks (0)

Babies, babies, everywhere!  In particular, there are babies in this month's issue of Diabetes Forecast, with a focus on pre-existing diabetes and pregnancy.  I'm very proud that BSparl and I had the opportunity to share our story with the Forecast readers, and that the photographer who visited our home wasn't too bothered by the cat hair.

(One quick note after reading through the "Guide to Pregnancy" article in the magazine:  Diabetes is tough. We know that.  Diabetes and pregnancy is tough, amplified.  But don't let the long article about "what could happen" sway you if you are planning to pursue a pregnancy and you have diabetes.  The information in that article is important, accurate, but can admittedly be overwhelming.  Not all diabetic pregnancies encounter the same kinds of complications that mine did - everyone's experiences vary.  Just know that information overload comes with any pregnancy, and diabetic ones are no exception.  We may get some added bonus worries, but the end result of our pregnancies can be just the same as the pregnancies of non-diabetic women:  a healthy baby.  Take all of the information you read online in stride, including the stuff I've posted here.  It's a lot of hard work, but like they say, it's so, so worth it.)

And with that, I'm off to give the BSparl a snuggle.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (0)

While I was at CBC a few weeks ago, one of the staff members asked me if I was planning on having more children.

"I don't think so," I said, without hesitation.  "I love my daughter endlessly, and now that she's part of my family, I can't imagine my life without her, but I can't lie to you.  I didn't enjoy being pregnant.  I wanted a baby, but spending nine months pregnant was very, very stressful."

The staff member who asked the question looked disappointed.  And in that moment, I sort of wish I had lied. 

"Oh ... you look disappointed.  I'm sorry!!  It's not just because of diabetes stuff.  It's my own personal preference.  I don't want to lie!"

And I won't lie.  The end result of my pregnancy was the most beautiful, smiley baby I have ever laid eyes on, and having her as part of our family has been the greatest joy that Chris and I have ever experienced.  Seriously - it sounds like a cheesy Hallmark card, but it's true.  This kid fills a hole in my heart that I didn't even know existed until I heard her cry and I finally felt complete.

But being pregnant, the actual journey of carrying her inside of me, was not an experience I'm looking to repeat.  This isn't entirely a diabetes-based decision, either.  There are a lot of factors that play into my decision.  Of course, being diabetic for almost 24 years does play a big role in my decision to have only one child.  I feel like my body has been through a good amount of chaos over the last two plus decades, and pregnancy didn't improve any diabetes-related complications that were starting to bloom (namely retinopathy, which I'm having checked again in August). When BSparl was born, she came out healthy and strong (and with a lot of hair, which surprised me for some reason), and I was in decent medical shape, too.  I feel like she and I beat some odds, and I'm not sure I'm ready to roll the dice a second time.

Because it wasn't just the diabetes complications.  It was a lot of the guilt, too.  I didn't do well with the pregnancy-related guilt that remains even now.  While I was pregnant, I felt like every meal came with a side of extreme guilt.  I worried that I was eating the wrong foods, taking too much/too little insulin, and that every blood sugar spike was literally boiling the baby as she grew inside of me.  I watched the graph on my Dexcom and wondered why it looked more like an M than a nice, flat line.  I worried incessantly about every low blood sugar.  

Being a high-risk pregnancy, I spent a lot of time at the doctor's office.  I had approximately one ultrasound a month, and each time I held my breath as they searched for my daughter.  Part of what comes along with a diabetic pregnancy is a lot of information, about complications that could arise and birth defects and risk factors and all kinds of scary stuff.  Sometimes I would lie in bed at night and think about all the health factors that were in play in my frame and the fear would chew on my mind, then settle in my heart.  It was almost too much information, and I had a difficult time emotionally handling it.

Nevermind the weight gain and the preeclampsia and the body image battles and the stretch marks and the emotional rollercoaster.  And nevermind the 3 1/2 weeks of hospitalization and bedrest before my eventual retinopathy-instigated c-section.  (That's just a plain ol' perfect storm of crap there.)

I always pictured myself as a mom, but I never saw more than one child in that picture.  All diabetes and health-related issues aside, I feel comfortable with one child.  I don't feel ashamed that I only want to have one baby, or embarrassed that I'm deciding to keep my family small.  There's nothing wrong with wanting to have a lot of kids.  But there's also nothing wrong with only wanting one child.

Of course, I have had a lot of people ask, and most of these people seem to live in my grocery store and stalk me in the checkout lines:

"Oh, how old is your baby?" 
"She's three and a half months." 
"Ooh.  She's a cutie.  When are you planning to give her a little sister or brother?" 
 ... or (and this has been my favorite one so far)
"You should hurry up and have another one so your daughter doesn't end up a screwed up only child."

Whaat??

I love my daughter, and the difficult pregnancy that brought her here makes me love her even more.  But I feel more than content with one child, and I'm not sure how else to answer the question of "Are you ready for another one?" with "No, I think she's going to be an only child." 

I felt bad when the girl from CBC asked me that question, because I wanted to tell her "Yes!  I will be the Old Woman in the Shoe, with so many children I'll be clueless as what to do."  Because I wanted her to know that anything is possible, even with diabetes, and if she wants to happily end up in a shoe, then she should go for it.  Anything is possible, depending on what you want.  But the truth is, for me,  I don't want to live in a shoe.  (Three cats in a shoe?  Insanity!)  I also don't want to put my body through another pregnancy, for way more than just diabetes reasons. 

I feel content.  I'm very happy with my daughter, and I love her endlessly.  And at this stage in my life, in my 30s and with more then two decades of diabetes, I'm comfortable with having the humans in my family even with the cats.  If circumstances change and our family is graced with another child, we will love that baby, but at this point, we're happy being a team of three.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (49) | TrackBacks (0)

Terrible habit, sarcasm.  Especially the "your mom" retort.  Like when my college roommates are out at the bar and someone asks for another beer.  Instantly, "Your mom wants another beer."  Immature retort?  Indeed.  But almost reflexive at this point?  Unfortunately, indeed again. 

(This intro has a point - bear with me.)

This morning, I woke up with my first bad low in a while.  For the last month or so, I haven't seen lows worse than 55 mg/dl, and my sensitivity to the symptoms seems to have increased a bit.  But while the lows of the last few weeks have felt mild, this morning's 49 mg/dl raked me over a little bit.

I woke up feeling groggy and warm, despite the air conditioning and the fact that I'd slept about seven hours straight.  (Yay for Sleeping-Through-the-Night-in-her-New-Crib BSparl!) The corners of my mouth were numb and I felt like my whole brain was encased in cotton balls.  I reached for the black meter case and brought it close to me in bed.  Fully intended to test.  But instead fell back asleep for a few minutes, with my meter snuggled against me.

Once I did wake back up, it had been another eight minutes.  And my symptoms were progressing, giving rise to shaking hands in addition to the cotton ball veil.  But it's strange, where my brain goes when I'm low.  I had a juice box right on the bedside table.  I knew I was low and didn't need to test to confirm, but I was on some kind of OCD autopilot.  I had to test.  Instead of grabbing the juice from beside me, I instead grabbed my meter from the bed, walked out into the kitchen, and set up the machine on the counter top. 

BEEP!

Shunk.

49 mg/dl.

"Okay,"  I said out loud, and took some glucose tabs from the cupboard.  (Chompy, chompy ... always a weird effort to get those things chewed up when I'm that low.) 

And then I heard BSparl stirring in the next room.   Not crying, but just stretching her little BSparly legs and easing into the morning routine.  I went in to stand at the side of her crib while I waited for my blood sugar to rise. 

"Hey sweetie girl.  Good morning!"

She kicked her legs and grinned at me.

"Hi!  Hang on just a few minutes, okay?  I'm having a low blood sugar and I need to wait before I get you up.  Just another minute or so.  I'm low.  Your mom is low."

And I thought of my roommates tossing the "your mom" retorts around with reckless abandon. I stood there giggling like a fool for at least a minute, the smile of irony on my face causing my daughter to bust out with an even bigger smile. 

"That's right, baby girl.  Your mom is low."  

Finally - FINALLY - the "your mom" actually makes sense.  (And with that, I've come full circle.)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBacks (0)

So here's a trend:  Today, I woke up to the sound of my baby cooing from her bassinet.  My hands reached over to the Dexcom receiver and I clicked on the button to light up the screen.  I saw a "74" and an arrow trending oh-so-slightly down.  So while Chris changed the baby, I went out to the kitchen to grab a swig of juice before settling in to breastfeed BSparl.  I fed her and then went into the living room to play with her.

Notice any problems here?  Anything ... oh, I don't know ... missing?  Like maybe a blood sugar check when I woke up?  Or at least one after I fed her?

Nope.  Nothing.  No test.  I went all the way from waking up to freaking NOON before busting out my meter.  This is a terrible trend.  And it's happened twice in the last four days.  I'm relying way too much on my Dexcom for guidance, instead of double-checking every hour or two with my meter.  I mean, missing a fasting blood sugar?  I've never, ever done that before.  Even in college, when I was at my diabetes worst, I still tested first thing every morning.

This is not a trend I want sticking.

Here's another trend:  For the most part, I am BSparl's daytime friend.  During the day, Chris leaves our home office for a distraction and baby-free zone where he can focus on his writing.  So for several hours a day, BSparl is left to her mommy's devices.  (Including, but not limited to, visiting friends for lunch dates, running household errand-type things, and my own attempts to get work done.)   When I'm hanging with the baby, getting to the gym is impossible, and with the weather so hot and humid lately, I don't feel comfortable taking her for a walk in the stroller.  By the time Chris gets home, and we talk for a while, and we have dinner, etc. etc., it's suddenly so late that it's almost time for Colbert to come on.  (NATION!)  And I'm too exhausted to hit the gym.

This is not a trend I want sticking, either.  

A lot of the baby weight has come off (thank you, breastfeeding), but I am in desperate need of some muscle toning.  I need to get some workouts in as part of my schedule in a hurry, because I'm growing tired of feeling flumpy.  Before I got pregnant, I felt good about my body.  Now?  I need a little more effort to get back to fighting shape, or at least faux-fighting shape.  (Like the kind of fighting that includes throwing styrafoam peanuts.  Or something similar.)

The trends of missing blood sugar checks and workouts must end TODAY.  These habits are too damn crappy to let them continue.  I can't let these two trends wreck my goal of good health.  Small changes can make the biggest difference, so as of this moment, I'm realigned myself to test every morning and to get some exercise in at least four days a week.  (I was doing five days a week for years, so four days isn't a bad starting point.)  And it doesn't have to be a gym workout - I'll take anything from a long walk with the stroller and BSparl to an ellipmachine workout to a bike ride. 

Why am I rambling on about this?  Accountability, my friends.  By telling you, I'm setting myself up to be accountable for my actions (or lack of action).  It worked in helping me get my diabetes reigned in for pregnancy, and I hope accountability can help me get my act together to be a healthier mom.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 02:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (0)

It wasn't until yesterday that I thought The Thought for the first time.

She had a very wet diaper in the afternoon.  And even though she had nursed for a long time and even though she seemed (and is) healthy and very strong, I still thought about taking out my meter and pricking her heel myself.  Just thought it for a second.

I didn't follow through, though.  I didn't let The Thought stay for more than a flicker, as I immediately finished changing her diaper and started singing her a song about the power of tiny spoons.  (Don't ask.  My songs never make any sense.)  I shook the thought off the same way I shake off the thought every time I wonder if my niece or nephew might have dipped into my autoimmune grab bag.  I don't allow my brain to go there.  It's not denial, but feels more like a protective measure taken by my mind, protecting my psyche from letting The Thought permeate my daily life.

Because I can't spend the rest of my life waiting to see.  The chances of BSparl being diagnosed with diabetes are slightly elevated as a result of my diabetes, but not much more than your "normal" (read:  mom without diabetes) mom.  But if it's going to be part of her future, I can't sit around waiting for it to happen.  I can't let every wet diaper and every "she wants to eat already?" thought prompt a panic attack.  I can't let this kind of fear own me.  I refuse to let The Thought even progress into A Fear.

I had a lot of questions tossed my way during my pregnancy about the likelihood of my daughter ending up diabetic.  I had some concerned family members who wanted to know if there would be a second type 1 diabetic among our numbers. I had some curious blog readers whose questions ranged from "Are you scared of passing it on?" to the irritatingly rhetorical "How dare you even take the risk?"  (For the record, my one-line email answer to that rhetorical question was, and remains, "How dare you write that email?")  And the weeks before Chris and I decided to go for it, I was scouring the Internet for stats on the children of diabetic moms.

But the moment they told us "It's on," all those thoughts went out the window.  I felt like any other mom, or at least I imagined it was how any other mom felt.  I wasn't fearing the worst, but hoping for the best.  Wondering what color eyes she'll have (they're slate blue, so far), what kind of books she'd like (she loooves The Pigeon Finds a Hotdog), and how snuggly her hugs would feel (super snuggly).  Diabetes was on my radar, but only as it related to my body and our shared pregnancy.  I didn't worry about whether or not she would get it.

it was weird, though.  That very wet diaper.  The Thought jumping right into my head, without warning or care.  It just was there and it lingered for a split second, before I literally shook my head and said, "Get out," sending The Thought back into the gray abyss.  It's just a wet diaper.  She's just extra hungry sometimes.  It's okay.  My baby is healthy.  My baby is happy. 

And if her health status were to change, I'll make it my job to ensure that her 'happy' status doesn't.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (53) | TrackBacks (0)

Dear BSparl,

You turn three months old today, and I'm having a hard time remembering what life was like before you arrived.  I know the house is turned upside down with diapers and pacifiers and all these weird little toys that clip to everything and make tinkly bell noises, but it feels like you've lived with us forever.  

The last four weeks have given us lots of new experiences.  You went on your first plane ride and you did AWESOME.  You grinned the whole time we were traveling, prompting the lady who sat behind us to say, after we landed, "Oh, I was watching her smile through the space between the seats.  She had a wonderful flight, didn't she?"  (Mommy didn't do as well, but that's to be expected because she's a huge wuss who writes to you in third person on occasion.)  You visited Florida and you met a lot of your extended family, including some that you spit up on. 

You've realized that smiling will get you everything (prompting your Grampa to ask you "What color pony do you want?").  You crack us up every morning, when you start to cry a little bit when you wake up, only to bust out with this huge grin as soon as one of us is standing by your crib, ready to pick you up.  You've also started cooing and babbling when we talk to you.  We have long conversations using only vowel sounds.

You are starting to show your preference for certain things.  Like that thing that we velcro on to your carseat with the colorful caterpillar on it.  You talk to it for hours.  And you don't really care for the toys attached to the arch on your bouncy chair.  I think you've realized the flaw in the designer's logic.  Let's take a closer look at the dragonfly that flies, the bee that buzzes around in the air, and the ... magical flying snail?

Okay, so not all of your toys make sense.  Like the frog with the mirror in his throat.  Or the teething ... foot.  Or the marvelous elephant with no feet.  But you are endlessly entertained by these treats, and I love watching you smile and laugh at all the silliness.

In the last few weeks, you've started kicking your legs around like crazy, and a few times my Dexcom sensor or my pump site has paid the price.  You've yet to nudge anything loose, but I'm sure that's coming.  Just yesterday, you had a fistful of pump tubing while you were breastfeeding.  And the other day, while we waited for Daddy to come out of the store, I used a bottle of test strips as a makeshift rattle.  Again, not all of your toys make sense.  ;)

You are very good with your furry housemates, tolerating their investigative reporting.  You haven't kicked Siah when she joins us for breakfast in the morning, even though she's trying desperately to lay on the Boppy.  And the other day, when Abby came up and licked your toes while you were playing on your playmat, I thought your eyes were going to roll out of your head in surprise. 

And you are getting so big.  I've already packed away your newborn clothes, and you're quickly stretching out of your 0 - 3 months outfits.  Every day, you seem a little bigger, which confirms that Daddy and I are doing a good job (and also makes me a little sad, in a strange way).  Your eyes are still slate blue and your hair is strawberry blonde, making you a perfect blend of your parents.  

You smile constantly.  You are the happiest little kidlet I have ever seen. 

And I love you bunches.

Love,
Mommy

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

Welcome once again to TMI Land.  Please forgive me in advance for anything I share that might make your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline. (And if you are Doctor Honeydew, that's quite a journey.)

BSparl has been part of our family for twelve weeks, and we've come a long way in the breastfeeding journey.  When I wrote about breastfeeding before, we were only about a month into BSparl's life, and everything was challenging.  Just waking up to feed her several times a night was turning us into Zombie Parents.  And breastfeeding, though something I was determined to do, was hard.  I thought the milk letting down was painful.  The nipple soreness was uncomfortable.  And latching on was something BSparl did with such a vengeance sometimes that I was afraid she was a baby land shark.  (Different from a building shark.)  But the first few weeks were definitely the hardest.

Now, twelve weeks into the whole adventure, feeding her is easier. My milk isn't coming in at random times, but instead seems to have magically timed itself to come in when the baby is due to eat.  It's an amazing thing, how my body has adjusted to provide my child with exactly what she needs.  Low blood sugars after I feed her are still a little bit of a problem, but not nearly as much of an issue as in the first few weeks.  (I'm blaming some of those on my body's adjustment to post-pregnancy life.) Latching on is better, especially now that she can hold her head up a little better, and the actual pain has been soothed by the constant use of these gel pads from Lansinoh.  And no, that's not a paid product placement.  The pads are just plain awesome.  Using Lanolin gel on my nipples when they're particularly sore also helps a lot. (Holy freaking TMI.  But whatever. I'm not much on shame these days.)

For about ten weeks, she was fed breastmilk exclusively, save for a bottle of formula at the hospital after she was born.  But at the ten week mark, my work schedule started to shift a bit, causing me to want to incorporate a bottle of formula here and there.  Yes, I pumped and yes, I had a good stash of milk going, but keeping that stash ... stashed was harder and harder as BSparl ate more at each feeding.  When she moved from 2.5 oz up to closer to 3.5 oz per feeding, I had trouble keeping up.  In order to ensure that she was fed breastmilk exclusively, I had to either pump all the time or just never, ever leave the house. 

This was the point where I had to make a decision based on what worked for MY life, not one based on the recommendations of others.  For me, I didn't want to have to pump while passengering in the car on our way to simple places like the movies or the grocery store. (My apologies to everyone on the road in our town - sorry if I flashed you.)  I felt like I was actually a cow, and debated chewing cud instead of bubble gum.  I even used this crazy ass device (the Pump Ease Hands-Free Breast Pumping Support Band ... in Bel Aire Blue) because I was desperate to reclaim a little bit of my work life.  (And for the record, that support band worked like a charm but looked so bizarre that Chris and I were constantly collapsing into peals of laughter because, come on - there's nothing hotter than your wife working diligently on her laptop with bottles attached to her breasts.  Wicked hot.)

After ten weeks of constant pumping and feeding, I needed more flexibility.  So we decided, as a family, to work in a little formula.

Currently, I feed the baby first thing in the morning (around 8:30 am) and then throughout the day as needed.  Sometimes, if we go out to dinner or visit family and friends in the evening, we'll give her a bottle of formula.  For the most part, BSparl is breastfeeding the majority of the time, with maybe one bottle a day.  But there's something about just knowing I have options makes me feel less stressed.  Because I was bugging out for a while.

There's a lot of guilt when it comes to breastfeeding, particularly as a type 1 diabetic.  Aside from hearing from The Mysterious THEY (you know what THEY say - THEY say way too freaking much) about the benefits of breastfeeding your baby, I know that breastfeeding can help keep a type 1 diabetes diagnosis at bay for the BSparl.  And the guilt gnaws at me a little, every time I mix up a formula bottle, because I don't ever want to be able to point the finger at something I didn't do to protect her.  (That's a whole different post, though.  More on that later.) 

I'm trying to do my best. 

And now that there's a little more flexibility in my feeding options, I'm really enjoying the breastfeeding experience.  I love the mornings with BSparl the best, because she wakes up all scrunchy-faced, kicking her tiny feet into the air and saying what sounds almost exactly like "Hi!"  We change her diaper, I open the bedroom door to let the cats in, and then snuggle into bed for her breakfast.  Despite the fact that Siah believes this ritual should also include her furry self, I love these intimate moments with my daughter.  While I'm already thinking about the weaning process and looking forward to completely reclaiming my body, I will miss these moments. 

... and I will also miss Photoshopping Siah into inappropriate situations.  

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 12:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (31) | TrackBacks (0)

BSparl loves to sleep ... but on her own damn schedule, thank you very much.  She doesn't like naps between 9 am and 3 pm, she wakes up in the middle of the night whenever she deems fit, and she has no use for the bassinet that my very generous best friend loaned to us.  So we moved the bassinet into the living room and I have these lofty plans of getting it back to the NBF sometime before we leave for Florida.

Unfortunately, someone else had plans for this discarded napper:

I can't stand this cat.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

Summer tends to be a busy travel time for my family, so once Chris and I knew when BSparl was arriving, we started researching "traveling with babies."  We consulted different books, some websites, and asked around our collection of family members.  We also spoke with our pediatrician at her first appointment - and we asked her a ton of questions of all kinds.

"When should we expect her to start sleeping through the night?"
"Does she like us?"
"Should she be taking some sort of vitamin supplement?"
"Why is her poop, like, electric yellow?"
"When will she start crawling?"
"How do we get her to stop smiling when she eats, because it makes it hard for her to latch on?"
"Does she know we don't have a clue what we're doing?"

But the question that always made me laugh was this one:  "When can she fly?"

As though she was going to sprout wings and start flapping.

But apparently BSparl gets her wings next Monday, as the full Team Sparling travels to Florida for the Roche Summit and a few days of the CWD conference.  

And I have no clue how to truly travel with a little baby.  

As far as BSparl's safety and immunity goes, her pediatrician is completely fine with us traveling so soon.  BSparl has had her first round of vaccinations and we're breastfeeding, so her immune system is ready for travel.  But am I?  I'm a nervous traveling as it is, and the idea of planning for all my diabetes stuff and now BSparl's needs makes me feel like I'm certain to forget something.

So I would love some advice, if you have any.  What are some tricks for keeping a two and a half month old baby happy and content on a plane ride?  How do you pack for four days with an infant in tow?  What toys might keep her happy and quiet?  How can we keep the rest of the passengers from hating us?  Do airlines have special arrangements for teeny kids?  Is it true that breastfeeding is a good way to keep her content and to protect her ears from popping?  Do they have baby changing tables in the airplane bathrooms?  (Is there even room in there for one of those??)  Do you check the carseat as baggage or do you bring it on as a carry-on?  I HAVE NO CLUE!!!  (And please don't make your advice, "Don't bring the baby.")

If you have traveled with a little kid before and you have some sage advice, please, pass it along.  I'm still figuring this mommy stuff out and I can use all the help I can get!!

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (55) | TrackBacks (0)

For anyone who has been reading my blog since my engagement three years ago, you know that motherhood has been on my radar for a long time.  Longer than marriage.  That quest for a decent A1C, that desire for a "normal" pregnancy, and that hope for a happy and healthy baby.

Part of the reason I wanted to write about my pregnancy here on SUM is because there wasn't a lot of information out there about pre-existing diabetes and pregnancy.  There was a LOT of information on gestational diabetes (obviously), and type 2 diabetes got some good press, but type 1 was sort of swept under the rug.  Thankfully, there were a few diabetes bloggers who had chronicled their journeys, and I wanted to add my voice to that hopeful chorus.   

But also thankfully, Cheryl Alkon had taken the topic to her publisher, and she penned the first book on managing pre-existing diabetes and pregnancy.  And I'm very honored to have been both featured in her book (as a women preparing for pregnancy) and to have her contributing here on SUM:

Doom and gloom. That was the message I got several years ago when I first thought about trying to have a baby while also dealing with my type 1 diabetes. Whether at the doctor's office, going online, or reading the very few books about the subject, trying to get and be pregnant while managing blood sugars, taking insulin, closely counting carbs (and avoiding a lot of low-carb proteins that were good for blood sugars, but bad for babies-to-be) all sounded like a nearly impossible task. One fraught with higher risks of birth defects, overweight babies, worsened diabetes complications, and more.

But I also saw type 1 friends who had healthy babies and sensed what could be possible. This spurred me to research, craft a book proposal, and eventually devote myself to publishing an insider's guide to pregnancy with type 1 or type 2 diabetes. I'm thrilled to say that, five years later, "Balancing Pregnancy With Pre-Existing Diabetes: Healthy Mom, Healthy Baby" was published by Demos Health this spring, and has been enthusiastically welcomed by others who, like me, craved the inside story about how to have a healthy pregnancy and baby while managing diabetes.

I had the pleasure of receiving an advance copy of Cheryl's book just before my baby was born, and even though I was in my third trimester and just weeks away from delivering my daughter, it was so reassuring to read about all the things that could go right.  A diabetic pregnancy is a high-risk one, and the challenges can lead to some tough emotional roller coasters and some scary medical experiences (see also:  stuck in the hospital for a month) - but these pregnancies can also lead to a healthy, happy baby.  (See also:  BSparl)  Touching on everything from pre-conception to managing the months of the pregnancy to post-delivery recovery and how to wrangle in diabetes control once again, this book was exactly what I needed to read while pregnant with my daughter.  I only wish it had gone to press before I had conceived!

If you are a woman with diabetes and you're thinking about becoming pregnant, this book is a good resource for you.  If you are the partner of a WWD (woman with diabetes) and you want the full story on how pregnancy and diabetes can mix, this book is a good resource for you, too.  And if you are the parent of a woman with diabetes and you want to know that your child can have the same chances of a healthy pregnancy as any other woman, this book is a good resource for you as well.  

Cheryl will actually be speaking in Boston in the coming weeks (the first event being THIS WEDNESDAY - sign up!), so if you'd like to hear more from Cheryl in person (and meet my endocrinologist, who consulted on the book with Cheryl), you can attend a discussion this Wednesday.  For more details on upcoming events, check out Cheryl's post on her blog.

Thank you, Cheryl, for giving new moms and moms-to-be with diabetes a sense of peace.  And congratulations on your BIG ANNOUNCEMENT on your blog today!

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (0)

Chris and I have a selection of diaper bags to choose from when it comes to toting around BSparl's stuff, but regardless of the bag we choose, that thing is heavy. Heavy because it's filled to the gills (Gills? Great, now picturing a diaper fish.) with not only baby-related goodies, but a pile of diabetes stuff as well.

Le video to follow:

And now le weekend to follow le video. (Once I find a cartoon representation of a diaper fish, that is.)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (0)

To My Best Friend, My Daughter, My Little Banana, 

BSparl, today is your two month birthday. 

Two months ago, you came bursting onto to the scene via c-section, filling the operating room with the sound of your cries.  The first pictures of you show your pouty mouth and your scrunched up eyes, wailing because you were taken from the warmth of my body and introduced into the harsh, fluorescent world on the outside.

We spent four days in the hospital, learning how to care for you with the help of the nurses at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center.  They showed us how to give you a sponge bath, how to help you latch on to feed, and how to change your impossibly teeny yet impossibly icky diapers.  And then they sent us home, to figure out how to take care of you at home.

BSparl, we've learned a LOT over the last eight weeks.  The first few days, we learned how to dress you in those little newborn outfits with all the freaking snaps, and we constantly snapped the wrong snaps up, leaving your legs stuck in a strange baby yoga position for a few seconds.  We learned how to accidentally put a diaper on backwards, somehow.  We learned how to spend the first few weeks leaping up from bed to check on you every time you sighed.  (We also learned how to function on little to no sleep.  That was a steep learning curve, kiddo.)

You are a serious little baby girl, with eyebrows that furrow and with a sweet smile that you just started showing us a few days ago.  You like to go for walks in the stroller, you seem to dig your play mat, and when Abby snuggles up against your feet, your eyes get all wide.  You love to be held and mornings are the best, when you wake up grinning and kicking your feet, ready for breakfast. 

Even though you are still a little peanut, your burps pack a wallop.  You totally sound like a 95 year old man.  Sometimes people stare when we burp you in public.  ("Did that come out of her?")  Your diapers also pack a similar wallop, and you seem to love the game "Fooled You!", when we take one diaper off of you, put the new one underneath you, and you let loose with the elimination of your choosing instantly upon the arrival of the clean diaper.  

You've rendered your writer parents wordless.  When you are snuggly and warm, we stare at you in amazement.  When you look at us with your blueberry eyes, our hearts melt.  When you smile, we can't find the words.  And the words we do seem to know these days are all ridiculous:  diapies, bibby, wipies ... everything ends in the "ees" sound.  You make us speak in pure gibberish all day long. 

The day you were born, we fell in love with you instantly.  And now, two months later, we can't really remember what life was like before you arrived.  You've completed our family, little girl, and we are so excited to be the ones who get to watch you grow up.

Love,
Mommy

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

For the last year of my life, it's been a monthly visit to the endocrinologist, and then once I was pregnant, the dam broke loose and I basically had a cot set up at the Beth Israel/Joslin pregnancy clinic.  Oh yeah, and then I spent a month at the hospital while waiting for BSparl. 

I have doctor burnout, big time.

So I'm done with doctor's appointments for at least a few weeks.  Mentally, at least.  (Because there is another one scheduled for August - WTF?)  But last week, I had my last appointment, for a while.  I was up at BIDMC for my "six week follow up" appointment (which took place seven weeks after the birth), and I met first with my endocrinologist. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired.  That's normal for a new mom, right?"

"Exhausted is more normal," she said, as she opened up my file on the computer.  We ran through my vitals, going over the medications I'm taking, the ones I'm not bothering with anymore, and how my blood sugars have been reacting to new mommyhood.  

"I've had some really good days, but the bad days are like epically bad.  Like 300's and 400's kind of bad," I said, looking at the floor.

"We want to prevent those highs, and the lows that either cause them or follow them, but you aren't the first postpartum patient I've seen who is hitting these kinds of numbers.  It's normal.  You'll even out," she said.

My basal rates seemed to be okay, but we did some tweaking to my afternoon/evening insulin:carb ratios (going from 1:12 to 1:15, which is math beyond my capacity).  Overall, I've had some nasty numbers, but my endocrinologist reassured me that my A1C wouldn't be too awful, because I wasn't letting any of those numbers ride.  (And when she called me on Monday to let me know what my lab work results were, my A1C was sitting comfortably at 7.0%.  Some people might call that too high, but I'm calling it a wicked victory for me.)

After I met with my endo, I was off for my exam with the OB/GYN.  Not to be terribly TMI, but I can't stand the pelvic exams.  They are unholy and cruel and a very strange way to spend an afternoon.  (Not only that, but I can't figure out why I'm not allowed to greet the doctor while I'm dressed.  No, they send her in only after I'm clad in the awkward paper johnny, with my regular clothes balled up on the chair near the examining table.  And it was the first time I had met with that specific OB.  "Nice to meet you, too!  This is my floppy body.") 

Thankfully, I appear to be healing well, both inside and out.  My c-section incision doesn't hurt anymore, and even though my lower abdominal muscles are currently useless and squishy, I am recovering like a "normal person."  (Read:  Not a diabetic who has seen 400's three times in the last eight weeks.  Nasty.)  There is still a little bit of light bleeding (not from the scar, silly), but my doctors told me the bleeding can last as long as nine weeks.  (Yay.)  The scar is shorter, and a light pink color as it attempts to heal.  I can't see the staple holes anymore, and when I spy the scar in the mirror, I don't want to jump out the window due to grossed-out'ed-ness.  That's progress!

So I'm cleared for "normal life," which includes being able to pick up the carseat while the baby is in it, which means I am no longer tied to my house.  THANK GOD, because I swear I was hearing the cats talk about me - in ENGLISH - which means my mind was starting to leak out.  Onward!  To normal life!

(Normal life - ha!  That's redefined with each messy diaper and baby smile.)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

Note to self: Don't dress BSparl in the outfit that matches the pattern on the blanket or, when you put her in the bouncy chair, you will not be able to find her.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (37) | TrackBacks (0)

She was tucked into the bassinet, perfectly safe and sound. Only she was wailing, with this loud cry and her bottom lip pouted out at an impossible angle, because she was hungry.

"I'm sorry, baby girl.  You have to wait just a few minutes so Mommy can have some juice, okay?"

I was standing at her side, belly full of grape juice and a blood sugar of 43 mg/dl.  BSparl needed to eat, I needed to breastfeed her, but I didn't feel confident picking her up just yet.  Of course, she started to cry just as the meter tossed that result at me.  A perfect storm of chaos.  My hands were too shaky and my brain wasn't 100% tuned in to reality.  She was safe and unharmed, but her cries were cutting through me and settling right in like barbed wire around my heart. 

"Two more minutes, sweetie.  Can you hang on?"  I stood by the bassinet and stroked her hair while she cried.

"Why, Mom?  Why aren't you picking me up and feeding me?  You're right there!  I can see you!  I can smell you!  I hear your voice!  Why?  Mommy, pick me uuuuuuuup!" 

(Or at least that's what I heard in her cries.  I'm sure it was some variation on that theme.)

Within a few more minutes, I felt much better.  More capable of picking up my daughter and bringing her over to the couch so I could feed her.  I kept a jar of glucose tabs on the coffee table while I fed BSparl, and the Dexcom eventually showed some arrows pointing north (it was like a CGM "thumbs up").  And we were both fine.  BSparl ate, I was fine, and we moved on with our day.

But the guilt of not giving her what she needs is something I need to adjust to. In keeping with the whole "oxygen mask" theory, I need to be in good form in order to take good care of my kid.  That means that my blood sugar needs to come first.  And that also means that my kid has to fuss while I wait for my blood sugar to be at a more reasonable level.  I can't pick her up if I feel shaky.  And I can't let the sound of her cries make me make decisions that aren't safe.

... it's hard, though!  Her bottom lip is ENORMOUS, and it's like my body is programmed to respond when she cries.  Leaving her there in the bassinet while I went to drink juice was heartbreaking, because she doesn't understand why I'm not giving her what she needs.  I don't want her to think her mommy is ignoring her.  The time will come when she understands how this balance works.  She'll grow up knowing that food is sometimes medicine and that her mommy, though madly in love with her, can't do it all at once.  

Until then, I'll stand at the bassinet and stroke her head, hoping that she'll forgive me for letting her cry.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (31) | TrackBacks (0)

You know you're a diabetic mommy when ...

• The bottle of glucose tabs is just as important as the bottle of breast milk in the diaper bag.
• You have already started wondering how you're going to explain "juice" as "medicine" to the kiddo.
• When you wake up for 3 am feedings, they double as a 3 am blood sugar check.
  
• You start cooing sweetly at your meter when it gives you a result of 100 mg/dl.  ("Oooh, what a good meter you are!  Yes you are!")
  
• Your baby ends up with a dot of blood on the back of her pajamas from your middle-of-the-night blood sugar check that didn't stop bleeding right away.
• When you talk about "the pump," you need to clarify "the insulin one, not the boob one."
• Sometimes you have to draw numbers to see who gets to feed the baby.  And by "draw," we mean blood samples.
• Nothing makes you happier than a full baby with a clean diaper and a full pump with a full battery.
• You need a diaper bag just for diabetes supplies.
• Your bedside table has just as many burp clothes as used test strips gathered at its base.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (26) | TrackBacks (0)