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Posts tagged ‘postpartum’

Accountability.

We have a newly-minted kiddo.  That’s an established fact.  He is cleaned, fed, and loved all day long.

Here’s the problem:  I’m not cleaned, fed, or loved all day long.  It’s embarrassing to admit that, but it’s the truth.  I’m struggling hard with self-care.  And I also kind of buck up against even the admission of struggling with self-care, because parents in general are sometimes tsk, tsk‘d for putting their needs on the to do list at all.

But that oxygen mask metaphor that I used back when Birdy was born?  Applies to the little Guy, too.  I can’t take care of him, or her, or anyone if I’m off my own game.

Maybe I’m not off my game so much as I need to change the game.  Gone are the days of plotting and spreadsheeting fertility goals, and with them went the fastidious monitoring of blood sugars and doctor’s appointments.  It’s okay to loosen the reins a bit there, but I need to keep up some semblance of diabetes management.  Checking blood sugars?  On it.  Using the features of my insulin pump to my advantage, like inputting my blood sugar and carb intake and letting it calculate my insulin needs?  On it.  Keeping my CGM graph top of mind instead of succumbing to alarm fatigue?  I can do that, too.

But oh the exercise and food thing is a frigging quest.  Uphill.  In the snow.  With that Sisyphus ball thing.

I thrive when held accountable, and I need accountability in order to reignite some healthier habits.  There was a short discussion about this on Facebook last week, which led to the creation of a small Accountabilibetes group, where we’re trying to help one another stick with some kind of exercise program, and that camaraderie has been a big boost.  Even though the weather has been fuck all cold (snowed last night), I’ve been back on the treadmill the last few days, easing in with some interval training that’s heavy on the incline and gentler on the speed for now.  (I’ve started watching The West Wing, which I’ve never, ever seen even an episode of before.  Now I have seven seasons of Sorkin-saturated dialog to work through.  Should keep me entertained throughout the winter treadmill months.)  A fully-charged Fitbit helps, too, as I’ve avoided that thing for the last 12 months as well. As far as food goes, improved food choices usually follow exercise for me, so I know that I’ll battle food temptations less when I’m physically active.

So far, it’s only been a few days, but I’m hoping that a few more days will wet cement these habits.  Once that mental cement sets, I’ll be in my pre-pregnancy planning circuit and my health overall will improve.  Right?  RIIIIIIIIIIIGHT.

Before that cement dries, I need to stick my finger in it and write “It’s worth it.”  And maybe also draw a cat out of the word “cat.”

What Happens to Your Brain When You Don’t Sleep.

There’s a little boy who lives in my house now and he seems to likes us.  He likes his big sister and he likes his mom and dad and he likes the cats.  He likes socks.  And fluffy blankets when we go on walks.  And he loves taking naps while the sun shines through the living room windows.

All awesome.

What he doesn’t like is sleeping during the night.  He fucking hates that.

As a result, we are not sleeping at night, either.  The dance of feed/change/snuggle/attempt sleep/feed/change/snuggle is endless throughout the night, making the baggage under my eyes significant and the days are starting to blend together into one, big diaper change.  My mind is on a sad circuit of this monkey:

But this is a diabetes blog.  So how’s the diabetes stuff going?  There might not be sleep, but is the brain responding to diabetes related requests?

Shit, the same gif.  That’s not optimal.

Diabetes is still there.  I still have it.  It didn’t “go away after I had the baby.”  And sometimes, throughout the day, I have myself fooled into thinking I’m on top of things.

But I’m sort of not.

Stuff I’m not on top of:  

Blood sugar checks are not happening as often as they were, or as they should be.  I’m checking my fasting blood sugar (making a point to do it immediately upon waking, because once I’m out of bed, I space out), but that’s sometimes it until after lunch time.  Not optimal once again.

Exercise is also not happening, but that’s because I’m still under the lock-and-key of the c-section.  My six week follow up is in two weeks and I’m hoping to be cleared for exercise, etc. but until then, I’m doing slow walks around the neighborhood with the tomato in the stroller and hoping my scar doesn’t rip open and all my guts spill out.  (This is a mental image I have with frightening regularity.)

Food remains a challenge, as well.  Weirdly enough, I’m having trouble eating enough these days (a stark contrast to my delight at eating too much a few weeks ago) and my spotty food intake is making breastfeeding a little bit of a challenge.  (As in, I produce less on days that I consume fewer calories.  It’s a frustrating tell.)  I am trying to make more grabby, healthy snacks (see also:  balls) so I’m able to eat on the fly without too much effort.

But this will all come with time.  Or so the mystics tell me.

Hey, but there is stuff I’m still on top of:

I’m still using the Dexcom every day,and that data is keeping me informed on how SWAG-gy my boluses have been.  My graphs have been all over the place, but I chalk that up to hormones re-balancing after giving birth, insulin:carb ratios being tweaked for postpartum needs, and a sleep schedule that is abysmal.

I’m also on top of my doctor’s appointments.  As I mentioned a few days ago, I’m building a hyper-local care team from the ground up and I’ve been on the ball about finding doctors, scheduling appointments, and working to flesh out the team.  So far, so good.

And I’m staying on top of what my kids need.  Laundry is all clean (granted, not folded and put away,  but all clean and a lovely, sorted mountain of clean it is!).  I have a steady flow of breastmilk being stashed in the freezer (in anticipation of upcoming travel, Grammie visits, and overnight feedings that Chris handles).  The Bird is being shuttled to friends’ houses and soccer practice and school without missing a beat.  My son is fed, diapered, and hugged a bunch, and is a very laid-back (albeit nocturnal) baby.  I might have only JUST NOW sat down to answer emails and work today, but my frigging KIDS are managed, so I’m calling today a mangled version of success.

Soon – SOON?! – we will be reunited with sleep.  Just in time for the time (and lancet) change.

Bliss Balls.

Do you know what bliss balls are?  I had never heard of them before.  There’s a coffee shop near the beach out here that sells these bliss ball things.  They look like desserty meatballs and are kept in a glass jar near the cash register.  If you’re sleep deprived, they look like pets held captive by the bakery ladies.

Chris bought one on a whim, assuming it would taste like garbage and we’d laugh about eating balls, but instead we thought it was delicious and felt ashamed at our immaturity.  To reclaim adulthood, we decided to attempt making our own bliss balls at home.

The sign at the coffee shop claims the ingredients are oats, peanut butter, honey, pepitas, coconut, and cinnamon.  The girls who worked at the coffee shop had no idea how much of each ingredient to use (Of course I asked; I’m baby-wearing and existing without sleep … no shame in going full-Mom and asking the college kids how to make bliss balls, right?), so I had to wing it based on the ingredient list alone.

I’m not a good cook, but I am good at baking, so I decided to give these bliss ball things a try.  The only missing element was that I didn’t have a recipe to follow.  Instead, I combed the web for different recipes and mushed them together, eventually following this one mostly, only tweaking it to fit the ingredients on the coffee shop sign.

Ingredients:

1/4 cup honey
1 3/4 cup peanut butter (the oiler, the better)
3/4 cup shredded coconut
3/4 cup pepitas
cinnamon (to taste)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions:

  • Put all of these items, except the pepitas (have you Googled that word to find out what the hell pepitas are yet?  I’ll wait …), into a bowl.  Stir everything together.  The mixture will resemble cookie dough.  Or meatloaf.  Cookie meatloaf.  (Mistyped that as “meatdough” initially.  Gross.  Going with it.)
  • Take the meatdough mixture and taste it.  Does it taste kind of like a snickerdoodle cookie with the texture of an almost-granola bar?  (My descriptions are not good when it comes to bliss balls.  On the whole, I think they look like meatballs or truck nuts, but they taste so nice and they are so mellow on my blood sugars that an embarrassing appearance becomes a non-issue.)
  • If the mixture tastes right to you, add the pepitas.
  • Shape the meatdough into round balls about the size of a golf ball and place them on a cookie sheet.  We put ours into the freezer for 20 minutes, then moved them to a tupperware dish and layered them in there, separated by sheets of parchment paper.
  • After about two hours, the meatdough will have “set” and the bliss balls will be all blissful.  Eat them with your face and forgive them for what they look like.

(Note:  I do not have an artsy-bloggy photo of the bliss balls, as they do not photograph well.  Use your imagination.  Or look at this Pinterest board for hints on how other people have done this sort of thing will more success.)  

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