I'm not really a fan of fall. In best to worst order, I rank the seasons as follows: spring, summer, fall, and winter.
Spring is best, hands down. It has my birthday (presents and candy), Easter (bunnies and candy), my favorite flowers (iris), my favorite weather (rain), and the green comes back! Plus, given how long winter lasts around here, I am always more than ready for the green to return. It can't come back soon enough. Spring is rebirth. It's cute baby animals, fewer layers of clothes, and warmer weather. Spring rocks.
Summer comes next because it is warm and, as a person who is perpetually cold, I am a fan of warm. I particularly love the warm rain. Plus, at least here in Michigan, the world is generally still green (unlike the lovely brown grass I had Texas). Were it not for spring, summer would be my favorite. In fact, I prefer warm so much, I made Phil promise not to move me to snow unless he really felt called to the job (and true to his word, even though he moved me to snow, he really is in the right place. But I digress...)
Fall is third. Although fall is arguably similar to spring (it even has its own candy holiday), I can barely rank it above winter. Fall is all about the colors of the world leaving and winter lasts so long it feels like they will never reappear. Fall makes me depressed just thinking it. I think this is mainly because I see it only as the portent of winter. Bad by association, I guess. Still, I do love the leaves changing colors, and it does often involve more rain. In fact, seeing the colorful leaves against the gray rainy sky is probably what redeems fall for me.
Winter is, has been, and will likely always be last. I don't care how many paid holidays it has, or how good the presents are, winter will never make it out of 4th place. I dread winter and count the days until spring. The only time I ever like snow is when it's coating everything, still pristine and white, and I don't have to be anywhere near it. If I can look at it through my window and not have to leave my house, then fine. Just make sure I have plenty of cocoa and books; warm, fuzzy socks; and my down comforter to wrap up in. But if I have to venture out into it, whether walking, driving, etc. I get frumpy and angry and all kinds of bad attitude. No thank you. And, since winter up here has asserted itself all over what are rightfully months belonging to fall and spring, it only exacerbates the dislike I have.
So, imagine my surprise when I discovered I was looking forward to fall this year. Sure, there's the obvious--my upcoming baby's birthday. But that wasn't it. I was actually looking forward to fall weather. This is unusual behavior indeed. After all, until this year, as far as I was concerned, anything below 70 degrees was cold. Period. So, the fact that it was 39 degrees this morning and I said nary a word, but went to work without a coat on, resulted in Phil making sure I wasn't a pod person. No, it turns out, I'm just a pregnant lady trying to stay cool.
I have actually never been more thankful to live in the North, where the summer temps that I usually found lacking became reasonably bearable. I have discovered that fall is a great season, at least this year, because it is perfect pregnant lady weather--highs in the 60s, lows in the 40s. Heaven! I know it's all hormonal and pregnancy-based, but given that I've spent a fair amount of time discussing the things I have suffered through with my pregnancy, I wanted to make sure to point out that I have found a few joys. And not being cold all the time is one of those. So, here's to hormones finally making me comfortably warm in places that are over-air-conditioned as well as the cool, fall outdoors.
And one final note: Although I doubt that this newfound love affair with cooler weather will last beyond the birth of my daughter (at least until either another pregnancy or menopause), I would like to thank her for timing her arrival so that my maternity leave falls during what is generally the snowiest part of the year. It is very thoughtful of her to keep me from having to drive to work in all the yucky weather. :)
9.29.2010
9.26.2010
The Ultimate Frustration
It's been a rough few weeks for me with this whole gestational diabetes thing. Initially, it seemed like it might be alright. After all, all of my numbers responded well, except for the morning fasting number. But, the dietitian had said that was the most difficult one to get in order, so I was frustrated, but I still felt properly motivated by the proper response of the after-meal numbers.
Then came the day I almost met the fasting number. I need to be below 95 and I got a 96. I was ecstatic! Then came my after-breakfast number. 121. What?! I eat the same breakfast everyday. How could that number suddenly be outside the acceptable range (100-120)? Worse, it also managed to throw off my numbers most of the day. So, after running high all day, my fasting number the next day was high again--but the others cooperated. Then, I discovered that lunch is almost always below my range. I get in the 90s. So, I started eating more carbs at lunch. I got as high as like 80 carbs (I'm only supposed to have 60) and was still getting around 109. Weird, but everything else (except the fasting number) seemed fine, so I just added more fruit to my lunches. I also discovered that not all carbs are created equal--and I'm not just talking about the junk food kind. I could eat 40 carbs for a late-night snack if I ate pretzels with peanut butter and get great morning numbers, but have only 30 carbs of ice cream and get much higher numbers. Turns out that milk and fruit sugars hit me harder than the others and my blood sugar just doesn't recover the same way.
So anyway, I think I've finally hit a good groove with getting all my numbers but my fasting one within range. About a week later, I again achieved the magic 96. As before, I ate the exact same breakfast I had eaten for the previous 2 weeks. Breakfast number--164! I didn't even get a number that high the morning I had eaten 3 McDonald's breakfast burritos and a 32oz Sweet Tea! At this point, I was ready to go out and get myself a nice big meal from McDonald's and chuck the whole plan. If the numbers refuse to have any correlation to what I'm eating, what is the point. Well, the point is that I would be hurting both myself and my daughter. But that didn't really stop the frustration.
See, I am almost entirely motivated by results. If I work my tail off and get nowhere, I don't see the point in working that hard anymore. With my willpower failing and my frustration at an all time high, I called the dietitian. I told her my problem and she reiterated that morning numbers are the most difficult to get into line. I told her I understood that, but what I didn't understand was why the same breakfast gave me such wildly different numbers, especially when I would get so close to the fasting number, and yet could carbo-load at lunch with no consequences. She suggested trying to eat a few more carbs on those mornings when my number was lower, counter-intuitively. She suggested maybe my body thought the number was too low and was pumping out sugar to compensate, thus raising it too high. I have not had the opportunity to try this theory out yet--hard enough to find that magic 96 in the first place--but I plan to try it when I do.
The best thing she said to me, however, was that this sometimes happens and that she understood how extremely frustrating it was for me. Turns out that there isn't necessarily a one-to-one correlation between what you eat and what your blood sugar is. Eating the same thing at the same time every day can give you wildly different results. She also indicated that as my daughter grows, I'll need more and more insulin, meaning that my numbers may get progressively worse without my doing anything different--I'm just getting more resistant. Frustrating, but nothing I can do anything about, except keep doing my best to follow the rules. I'll see the doctor later this week to go over my numbers and see what they think about how I'm doing. I'm hopeful that they'll tell me my numbers are close enough. If not, well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
Then came the day I almost met the fasting number. I need to be below 95 and I got a 96. I was ecstatic! Then came my after-breakfast number. 121. What?! I eat the same breakfast everyday. How could that number suddenly be outside the acceptable range (100-120)? Worse, it also managed to throw off my numbers most of the day. So, after running high all day, my fasting number the next day was high again--but the others cooperated. Then, I discovered that lunch is almost always below my range. I get in the 90s. So, I started eating more carbs at lunch. I got as high as like 80 carbs (I'm only supposed to have 60) and was still getting around 109. Weird, but everything else (except the fasting number) seemed fine, so I just added more fruit to my lunches. I also discovered that not all carbs are created equal--and I'm not just talking about the junk food kind. I could eat 40 carbs for a late-night snack if I ate pretzels with peanut butter and get great morning numbers, but have only 30 carbs of ice cream and get much higher numbers. Turns out that milk and fruit sugars hit me harder than the others and my blood sugar just doesn't recover the same way.
So anyway, I think I've finally hit a good groove with getting all my numbers but my fasting one within range. About a week later, I again achieved the magic 96. As before, I ate the exact same breakfast I had eaten for the previous 2 weeks. Breakfast number--164! I didn't even get a number that high the morning I had eaten 3 McDonald's breakfast burritos and a 32oz Sweet Tea! At this point, I was ready to go out and get myself a nice big meal from McDonald's and chuck the whole plan. If the numbers refuse to have any correlation to what I'm eating, what is the point. Well, the point is that I would be hurting both myself and my daughter. But that didn't really stop the frustration.
See, I am almost entirely motivated by results. If I work my tail off and get nowhere, I don't see the point in working that hard anymore. With my willpower failing and my frustration at an all time high, I called the dietitian. I told her my problem and she reiterated that morning numbers are the most difficult to get into line. I told her I understood that, but what I didn't understand was why the same breakfast gave me such wildly different numbers, especially when I would get so close to the fasting number, and yet could carbo-load at lunch with no consequences. She suggested trying to eat a few more carbs on those mornings when my number was lower, counter-intuitively. She suggested maybe my body thought the number was too low and was pumping out sugar to compensate, thus raising it too high. I have not had the opportunity to try this theory out yet--hard enough to find that magic 96 in the first place--but I plan to try it when I do.
The best thing she said to me, however, was that this sometimes happens and that she understood how extremely frustrating it was for me. Turns out that there isn't necessarily a one-to-one correlation between what you eat and what your blood sugar is. Eating the same thing at the same time every day can give you wildly different results. She also indicated that as my daughter grows, I'll need more and more insulin, meaning that my numbers may get progressively worse without my doing anything different--I'm just getting more resistant. Frustrating, but nothing I can do anything about, except keep doing my best to follow the rules. I'll see the doctor later this week to go over my numbers and see what they think about how I'm doing. I'm hopeful that they'll tell me my numbers are close enough. If not, well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
9.15.2010
Needles Redux
As some of you know, I was recently diagnosed with gestational diabetes. For the woman whose diet is pretty much all carbs, this diagnosis turned my world upside down. Whether it's my love affair with all things dairy, my favorite vegetables (sweet potatoes, carrots, corn, peas, beans), my sweet tooth, or the fact that I love breaded meat, my whole diet is pretty much shot. Worse, I have to poke myself 4 times a day. I honestly thought that once the IVF was over, my needle days were done. Apparently not.
Ever since the diagnosis, I have been feeling frustrated and anxious. I saw the doctor today about unrelated matters, and asked her whether I had done something to cause this. She reassured me that my eating habits were not to blame. I didn't do anything wrong. This just happens sometimes. I keep reminding myself of this, but I'm still feeling responsible and internally beating myself up because I feel that I have put my daughter at risk. However, I do recognize that beating myself up about it won't change anything, so while I am working on remembering that this is "just one of those things," I am also working on altering my diet as instructed.
So, yeah, about that diet-altering stuff. I was initially under the impression that this would not be terribly difficult. After all, only 2 of my 4 numbers during the test had been elevated and they weren't that high. I attended a class at the diabetes clinic on eating where they informed me that even though some things had carbs, I did not have to count them in my carb totals. Cashews, for example, were a free food. Carrots and tomatoes could also be eaten as often as I wanted, as could cheese. Anything that had fiber numbers in the carb count I could subtract out. Let's say a slice of bread has 9 carbs, but 2 g of fiber, I could count the bread as 7 carbs in my meal total. Hooray!, I thought to myself. I might be able to manage this after all.
Even so, I knew I had to make sacrifices. I gave up my Oreos and Cheez-its, french fries, and chips. I also gave up my sweet tea(!), soda, lemonade, and anything that wasn't water, V8, or unsweetened, decaf iced tea. Since my carbs were limited, I really wanted to make them count. The only junk food I permitted to remain was ice cream, as I could have a single scoop for my evening snack, as both a treat and a serving of dairy. Win-win!
I knew breakfast would be hard. It was not only my biggest carb meal of the day and now had to be the smallest, but it was pretty much just that--all carbs. I had to throw out everything I usually ate--a bagel, coming in at a whopping 50 carbs, before the cream cheese and jelly (I'm only allowed 45 at most for breakfast); breakfast cereal (all carbs); and orange juice (this is, after all, what is given to those suffering from hypoglycemia). No problem, I meandered through my freezer and located breakfast sandwiches that came in at a lowly 26 carbs. My breakfast range is 30-45, so I was clearly under, but I was determined to see a good number, particularly since I'd only managed 1 good number so far. I was left VERY hungry, as one small breakfast sandwich does not a meal make (I used to eat at least two), but having not been able to go to the store yet had made finding things in the house to eat rather difficult, and eating out was way worse.
So, I had my little sandwich and waited the requisite 2 hours before testing. Got a 119--cutoff is 120. Crap. I ate less than the minimum amount of carbs and was barely in the range. Coming after two consecutive high readings, I was not happy. Still, I was starving and it was time for a snack. I elected to have a V8, coming in at a whopping 15 carbs (snacks are 15-30). Although technically V8 is a "free" food, I elected to go ahead and count it in an effort to keep my numbers in line. Lunch time came. Range for lunch is 45-60. The previous day I had eaten 56 carbs and my lunch number was 100. Feeling pretty good about lunch, I ventured again into the 56 range. Lunch number--134! Crap part deux.
I had Greek yogurt for my next snack (19 carbs) to get some dairy and protein in, but was still feeling peckish, so I dipped into my bowl of cashews--a free food, so this should be fine, right? Wrong! As I am refilling the bowl, the bag informs me that each serving has 9 carbs. Aragh! So, since free foods aren't really carb free, and given that I can barely keep my numbers in line when I'm eating below the low end of the carb range, I'm not sure there's really such a thing as a free food--except maybe water. Harrumph.
It's now dinnertime. With the exception of my broccoli (which, although technically free, does, in fact, have carbs as my Google-Fu has just informed me), I managed to eek out a dinner with dairy, veggies, meat (chicken and fish), and bread that came in at 50 carbs (although I probably have to count it as 59 with the broccoli). Now, I must wait two hours and see what happens. Hopefully, my numbers will be in range, although with the cashew debacle from snack time, who knows what will happen. I will eat my snack tonight and then tomorrow will eat the minimum carb at each meal, making sure to count every carb. I will not count anything as "free" and will not subtract out dietary fiber from the count. I am hopeful that by doing so, I will get my numbers under control. If not, I have the sinking suspicion that I will soon be on insulin. More needles. Oh, joy. To this, I have but one reply. L'Oreal.*
*See previous post for reference.
Ever since the diagnosis, I have been feeling frustrated and anxious. I saw the doctor today about unrelated matters, and asked her whether I had done something to cause this. She reassured me that my eating habits were not to blame. I didn't do anything wrong. This just happens sometimes. I keep reminding myself of this, but I'm still feeling responsible and internally beating myself up because I feel that I have put my daughter at risk. However, I do recognize that beating myself up about it won't change anything, so while I am working on remembering that this is "just one of those things," I am also working on altering my diet as instructed.
So, yeah, about that diet-altering stuff. I was initially under the impression that this would not be terribly difficult. After all, only 2 of my 4 numbers during the test had been elevated and they weren't that high. I attended a class at the diabetes clinic on eating where they informed me that even though some things had carbs, I did not have to count them in my carb totals. Cashews, for example, were a free food. Carrots and tomatoes could also be eaten as often as I wanted, as could cheese. Anything that had fiber numbers in the carb count I could subtract out. Let's say a slice of bread has 9 carbs, but 2 g of fiber, I could count the bread as 7 carbs in my meal total. Hooray!, I thought to myself. I might be able to manage this after all.
Even so, I knew I had to make sacrifices. I gave up my Oreos and Cheez-its, french fries, and chips. I also gave up my sweet tea(!), soda, lemonade, and anything that wasn't water, V8, or unsweetened, decaf iced tea. Since my carbs were limited, I really wanted to make them count. The only junk food I permitted to remain was ice cream, as I could have a single scoop for my evening snack, as both a treat and a serving of dairy. Win-win!
I knew breakfast would be hard. It was not only my biggest carb meal of the day and now had to be the smallest, but it was pretty much just that--all carbs. I had to throw out everything I usually ate--a bagel, coming in at a whopping 50 carbs, before the cream cheese and jelly (I'm only allowed 45 at most for breakfast); breakfast cereal (all carbs); and orange juice (this is, after all, what is given to those suffering from hypoglycemia). No problem, I meandered through my freezer and located breakfast sandwiches that came in at a lowly 26 carbs. My breakfast range is 30-45, so I was clearly under, but I was determined to see a good number, particularly since I'd only managed 1 good number so far. I was left VERY hungry, as one small breakfast sandwich does not a meal make (I used to eat at least two), but having not been able to go to the store yet had made finding things in the house to eat rather difficult, and eating out was way worse.
So, I had my little sandwich and waited the requisite 2 hours before testing. Got a 119--cutoff is 120. Crap. I ate less than the minimum amount of carbs and was barely in the range. Coming after two consecutive high readings, I was not happy. Still, I was starving and it was time for a snack. I elected to have a V8, coming in at a whopping 15 carbs (snacks are 15-30). Although technically V8 is a "free" food, I elected to go ahead and count it in an effort to keep my numbers in line. Lunch time came. Range for lunch is 45-60. The previous day I had eaten 56 carbs and my lunch number was 100. Feeling pretty good about lunch, I ventured again into the 56 range. Lunch number--134! Crap part deux.
I had Greek yogurt for my next snack (19 carbs) to get some dairy and protein in, but was still feeling peckish, so I dipped into my bowl of cashews--a free food, so this should be fine, right? Wrong! As I am refilling the bowl, the bag informs me that each serving has 9 carbs. Aragh! So, since free foods aren't really carb free, and given that I can barely keep my numbers in line when I'm eating below the low end of the carb range, I'm not sure there's really such a thing as a free food--except maybe water. Harrumph.
It's now dinnertime. With the exception of my broccoli (which, although technically free, does, in fact, have carbs as my Google-Fu has just informed me), I managed to eek out a dinner with dairy, veggies, meat (chicken and fish), and bread that came in at 50 carbs (although I probably have to count it as 59 with the broccoli). Now, I must wait two hours and see what happens. Hopefully, my numbers will be in range, although with the cashew debacle from snack time, who knows what will happen. I will eat my snack tonight and then tomorrow will eat the minimum carb at each meal, making sure to count every carb. I will not count anything as "free" and will not subtract out dietary fiber from the count. I am hopeful that by doing so, I will get my numbers under control. If not, I have the sinking suspicion that I will soon be on insulin. More needles. Oh, joy. To this, I have but one reply. L'Oreal.*
*See previous post for reference.
9.12.2010
Strong Women
As my pregnancy has progressed and my little girl gets more active, I have become much more attached and bonded with her. It has also helped me understand things that previously frustrated me about adoption.
Let me take a few steps back. Simply put, pregnancy is natural. That does not, however, equate with easy. It is hard on the body. Even the easiest pregnancy takes its toll. Indeed, I have taken to calling my little one "L'Oreal" anytime I am experiencing pregnancy-related hardship (because she's worth it). And, because I had so much difficulty getting pregnant, I often think that whatever I must endure for 9 months will surely be worth it. I found it interesting, then, that it was precisely because I had to work so hard and endure so much to become pregnant, that I suddenly understood why women would back out of the adoption process.
When Phil and I were researching our options once we were told that medical intervention would be necessary for us to have biological children, we considered adoption. The research indicated that the cost would be roughly the same for adoption or IVF and neither was a guaranteed success. Although there were unknowns and financial risks involved in either decision, what frustrated me most about adoption was that I was sinking a lot of money into a woman who could change her mind, leaving me in debt and without a child. Although cognitively, I understood that IVF rendered a similar risk, the difference was that if IVF didn't work, it was my body or medicine that let me down, not the whims of another person. I found myself frustrated and angry at all the stories of women who would offer their children up for adoption, only to change their minds at the last minute, leaving the prospective adoptive parents mourning the loss of another child. How could they do that? They made an agreement--they ought to be held to the agreement.
Well, I get it now. At least, I think I do. The emotional pull created by feeling the baby kicking is indescribable. I would imagine that knowing cognitively that giving up the baby is the right thing to do has little to no power over the emotional pull of wanting to see, hold, nurture, or raise the baby. Having this new understanding has led me to marvel at the birth mothers who have been able to go through with handing their children over for others to raise. I finally have some small insight into just how difficult that must be. These are very strong women, indeed.
My amazement is even greater for those women who become pregnant from rape or incest and choose to have the children--whether keeping them or giving them up for adoption. This amazes me in large part because every time I feel my daughter kick, I am reminded of how much I want her and the experiences I had that brought me to this point. How would I feel if the experience that created her had been violent or horrific? My mind cannot even fathom what feeling the baby kick under those circumstances must feel like. Women who can carry these children must be strong indeed.
And so I want to offer thanks to these women, and honor them for their sacrifice--giving of themselves, their time, their emotions, and their bodies, to birth these unintended children. I am truly amazed and awed at the level of strength they must have. And I am grateful that my pregnancy has allowed me the opportunity to recognize their sacrifices.
Let me take a few steps back. Simply put, pregnancy is natural. That does not, however, equate with easy. It is hard on the body. Even the easiest pregnancy takes its toll. Indeed, I have taken to calling my little one "L'Oreal" anytime I am experiencing pregnancy-related hardship (because she's worth it). And, because I had so much difficulty getting pregnant, I often think that whatever I must endure for 9 months will surely be worth it. I found it interesting, then, that it was precisely because I had to work so hard and endure so much to become pregnant, that I suddenly understood why women would back out of the adoption process.
When Phil and I were researching our options once we were told that medical intervention would be necessary for us to have biological children, we considered adoption. The research indicated that the cost would be roughly the same for adoption or IVF and neither was a guaranteed success. Although there were unknowns and financial risks involved in either decision, what frustrated me most about adoption was that I was sinking a lot of money into a woman who could change her mind, leaving me in debt and without a child. Although cognitively, I understood that IVF rendered a similar risk, the difference was that if IVF didn't work, it was my body or medicine that let me down, not the whims of another person. I found myself frustrated and angry at all the stories of women who would offer their children up for adoption, only to change their minds at the last minute, leaving the prospective adoptive parents mourning the loss of another child. How could they do that? They made an agreement--they ought to be held to the agreement.
Well, I get it now. At least, I think I do. The emotional pull created by feeling the baby kicking is indescribable. I would imagine that knowing cognitively that giving up the baby is the right thing to do has little to no power over the emotional pull of wanting to see, hold, nurture, or raise the baby. Having this new understanding has led me to marvel at the birth mothers who have been able to go through with handing their children over for others to raise. I finally have some small insight into just how difficult that must be. These are very strong women, indeed.
My amazement is even greater for those women who become pregnant from rape or incest and choose to have the children--whether keeping them or giving them up for adoption. This amazes me in large part because every time I feel my daughter kick, I am reminded of how much I want her and the experiences I had that brought me to this point. How would I feel if the experience that created her had been violent or horrific? My mind cannot even fathom what feeling the baby kick under those circumstances must feel like. Women who can carry these children must be strong indeed.
And so I want to offer thanks to these women, and honor them for their sacrifice--giving of themselves, their time, their emotions, and their bodies, to birth these unintended children. I am truly amazed and awed at the level of strength they must have. And I am grateful that my pregnancy has allowed me the opportunity to recognize their sacrifices.
8.30.2010
Progress Report
Today we went to the doctor for an ultrasound to check both baby's growth as well as placenta placement. The growth checks are because we used IVF. Studies have shown that IVF babies are more likely to have low birth weight, so they check growth progress. Our little girl is now 2 lbs, 15 ozs--she's in the 76th percentile and measuring about a week ahead of schedule. She had the hiccups during the ultrasound--I couldn't feel them, but it was cute to watch.
There was mixed news on the placenta front. The good news was that it had moved up. Last time it was partial-previa, indicating it was partially covering the cervix. Now, it is 1 cm away, which classifies it as "low lying." They will check me again in 6 weeks to see if it's moved anymore. The goal is to have it at least 2 cm away. If it reaches that point, then they will let me try natural childbirth rather than scheduling a c-section. So, yea for movement, but we need more.
On the preparation front, things are going smoothly. We started prenatal classes and have scheduled a hospital visit. This coming week we will finish cleaning out the nursery and get it painted. Then we will start moving things into the room, like the bookcase and the rocking chair. Also arriving this week are a crib and changing table, courtesy of Phil's parents. Thanks to hand-me-downs, we are totally set on clothes and bibs. Between the huge bag of clothes from my cousin and the three tubs of clothes from Phil's sister, we are more than set. We also got a huge tubs of books. I am so grateful for everyone's generosity.
I waffle between wanting to have my daughter here right now and knowing that it is much better for her to continue to bake. But, all in all, things are going well and feeling more real.
There was mixed news on the placenta front. The good news was that it had moved up. Last time it was partial-previa, indicating it was partially covering the cervix. Now, it is 1 cm away, which classifies it as "low lying." They will check me again in 6 weeks to see if it's moved anymore. The goal is to have it at least 2 cm away. If it reaches that point, then they will let me try natural childbirth rather than scheduling a c-section. So, yea for movement, but we need more.
On the preparation front, things are going smoothly. We started prenatal classes and have scheduled a hospital visit. This coming week we will finish cleaning out the nursery and get it painted. Then we will start moving things into the room, like the bookcase and the rocking chair. Also arriving this week are a crib and changing table, courtesy of Phil's parents. Thanks to hand-me-downs, we are totally set on clothes and bibs. Between the huge bag of clothes from my cousin and the three tubs of clothes from Phil's sister, we are more than set. We also got a huge tubs of books. I am so grateful for everyone's generosity.
I waffle between wanting to have my daughter here right now and knowing that it is much better for her to continue to bake. But, all in all, things are going well and feeling more real.
8.13.2010
Getting to Plan
So, as many of you know, I like to plan. Ok, I love to plan. So, imagine my surprise when I discovered that there's something called a birth plan. This was about the most exciting thing I had heard. It was not only something I could do while waiting for the weeks to pass by, but I could plan! I knew that my week 32 visit would include a discussion with my nurse practitioner to go over my "plan" and put it in my chart, so I wanted to be prepared. I did what I imagine most people do--I Googled "birth plan." Yowzers, are there lots of results. Ultimately, I found what I thought was a good site and began to look around. They had this nice checklist of things--do you want an epidural (yes), an episotomy (no), special music (how should I know), etc. I didn't quite understand all the options, so I didn't make an "official" plan at that point, but I certainly thought I was well on my way. I began to feel slightly smug--Look at me, I am informed and I have a plan. Then, my friend posted a link to an article about birth plans. Imagine my surprise when the first tidbit of advice was:
1) It is better to call this document "birth preferences," rather than a "birth plan," because it helps us all remember that birth pretty much happens the way it will and there's not much you can do about it (a VERY important point for us control freaks). The point is really to have done the research ahead of time, so that it doesn't all have to be explained to you while you are in pain and/or on drugs.
2) You are better off selecting a practitioner that already automatically does 90% of the things you want. Spending more time researching and selecting the right practitioner for you will provide better results than a detailed birth plan, because you won't be fighting an uphill battle. It also means that you can include fewer things in the plan, because they are already SOP for your provider.
3) Make it a single page and only include the most important things. To me, I inferred that this also meant, if you don't really have a preference, don't include it.
4) Make it personal. Above all else, don't just copy someone else's plan and make sure you know exactly what it means to have made the selections you have made.
Armed with this information, I did what I do best. Research! I went to lots of sites and discovered that there are lots of things I don't really care about one way or the other. There are other things, however, that I didn't even know I had a choice about, but quickly discovered I had a preference for or against. Putting this research in context with viewing various sample plans, I was able to craft one that I think really suits me. Phil and I then discussed and adjusted it until we understood why we had made the choices we made and were in agreement (another important point). I am still open to persuasion on some of these issues and we may change our minds about some things as time goes by, or discover additional information we didn't have before, but at least we have something to take to the doctor's visit to start the conversation. Always a good thing in my book.
At this point, I feel more in control and more informed. Both good things. But I think the most important lesson from all of this is, don't plan. The truth is, my daughter will arrive when she is good and ready, and I have no control over that. I also can't control whether I will be able to birth naturally or need a C-section. The only thing I can control is how knowledgeable I am about my choices so that when the time comes, I make them with informed consent. It's not much, but for a control freak/planner like me, I'll take what I can get. Bring on the knowledge!
1) A birth plan does not replace the need for birth preparation.Ack! I thought to myself. This is precisely what I have done. As I continued to read the article, I realized that I was doing precisely the wrong things. I wasn't exactly researching my options, which is really the point behind birth plans. I found a link at the end of the article to a blog called Nursing Birth. It's written by a labor and delivery nurse, and she had two great posts about birth plans: Writing your birth plan and Top 10 Dos. I found her tips extremely instructive. She also provided links to other great sites with sample birth plans. Ultimately, I distilled all the information from various sources down into four main points:Going to an online “birth plan mill” and checking off a bunch of boxes (“yes” to the epidural! “no” to the episiotomy!) is not the same as preparing for birth.
1) It is better to call this document "birth preferences," rather than a "birth plan," because it helps us all remember that birth pretty much happens the way it will and there's not much you can do about it (a VERY important point for us control freaks). The point is really to have done the research ahead of time, so that it doesn't all have to be explained to you while you are in pain and/or on drugs.
2) You are better off selecting a practitioner that already automatically does 90% of the things you want. Spending more time researching and selecting the right practitioner for you will provide better results than a detailed birth plan, because you won't be fighting an uphill battle. It also means that you can include fewer things in the plan, because they are already SOP for your provider.
3) Make it a single page and only include the most important things. To me, I inferred that this also meant, if you don't really have a preference, don't include it.
4) Make it personal. Above all else, don't just copy someone else's plan and make sure you know exactly what it means to have made the selections you have made.
Armed with this information, I did what I do best. Research! I went to lots of sites and discovered that there are lots of things I don't really care about one way or the other. There are other things, however, that I didn't even know I had a choice about, but quickly discovered I had a preference for or against. Putting this research in context with viewing various sample plans, I was able to craft one that I think really suits me. Phil and I then discussed and adjusted it until we understood why we had made the choices we made and were in agreement (another important point). I am still open to persuasion on some of these issues and we may change our minds about some things as time goes by, or discover additional information we didn't have before, but at least we have something to take to the doctor's visit to start the conversation. Always a good thing in my book.
At this point, I feel more in control and more informed. Both good things. But I think the most important lesson from all of this is, don't plan. The truth is, my daughter will arrive when she is good and ready, and I have no control over that. I also can't control whether I will be able to birth naturally or need a C-section. The only thing I can control is how knowledgeable I am about my choices so that when the time comes, I make them with informed consent. It's not much, but for a control freak/planner like me, I'll take what I can get. Bring on the knowledge!
8.05.2010
Just for Kicks
Well, my daughter has finally made her presence known. Not only can I feel her move, but I can see her kick. It was crazy the first time it happened. I was resting my hands on my stomach when, suddenly, one of them jumped. I looked down and, sure enough, my stomach was moving by itself. Crazy! Phil managed to experience one of these kicks as well--which is good, because ever since then, she's been messing with him. She'll be kicking me pretty good, but the minute he puts his hand on my belly to feel, she stops. She's already an independent-minded little bugger. Wonder where she gets that from? :)
We've also reached a new milestone this week--viability. If born now, she has at least a 40% chance of survival. That, to me, is amazing. Even so, it is my fervent hope that she stays in the oven to bake a while longer. It's strange. Some days, November can't get here fast enough. Other days, I can't believe it's August and wonder where the time went.
I was talking with a friend at lunch today, and was surprised to realize it hasn't even been a year since I was told I couldn't have biological kids without fertility treatments. In fact, my daughter is due roughly a year from our first visit to the fertility center. Looking back on what I've been through this past year, I'm amazed. Not only at myself and what I've accomplished in terms of personal growth (and I don't just mean my stomach), but amazed at how everything lined up exactly right. From finding an amazing, top 5% fertility center fairly nearby, finding a way to get a loan, our IVF cycle being moved up so I'm not due at Christmas, and being successful on the first try. It seems clear with hindsight that this was meant to be, but having read so many stories of women who undergo 4 or more cycles unsuccessfully, I remember being so afraid. I feel extremely blessed that I was not only successful, but on the first try. I am also grateful for having had a remarkably easy and uneventful pregnancy thus far. My life is truly full of blessings. These days, all it takes is a little kick to remind me.
We've also reached a new milestone this week--viability. If born now, she has at least a 40% chance of survival. That, to me, is amazing. Even so, it is my fervent hope that she stays in the oven to bake a while longer. It's strange. Some days, November can't get here fast enough. Other days, I can't believe it's August and wonder where the time went.
I was talking with a friend at lunch today, and was surprised to realize it hasn't even been a year since I was told I couldn't have biological kids without fertility treatments. In fact, my daughter is due roughly a year from our first visit to the fertility center. Looking back on what I've been through this past year, I'm amazed. Not only at myself and what I've accomplished in terms of personal growth (and I don't just mean my stomach), but amazed at how everything lined up exactly right. From finding an amazing, top 5% fertility center fairly nearby, finding a way to get a loan, our IVF cycle being moved up so I'm not due at Christmas, and being successful on the first try. It seems clear with hindsight that this was meant to be, but having read so many stories of women who undergo 4 or more cycles unsuccessfully, I remember being so afraid. I feel extremely blessed that I was not only successful, but on the first try. I am also grateful for having had a remarkably easy and uneventful pregnancy thus far. My life is truly full of blessings. These days, all it takes is a little kick to remind me.
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