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5 weeks from today, I will be having a scheduled c-section.
5 weeks from today, I will be giving birth to a behemoth.
Well, maybe not.
I am now visiting the doctor’s twice weekly – my OB/GYN on Mondays and my beloved perinatologist’s office on Thursdays.
The Monday visit consists of a consult with whomever I am seeing that week – remember, this is the practice with a dozen midwives and doctors – and a Non-Stress test. The non-stress test consists of sitting in a recliner with two sensors on my belly, one measuring baby’s heart beat and one presumably measuring any contractions, while I push a button every time that Nugget moves.
This past Monday, they took me back, got my vitals and then took me straight to the Non-stress test room as I was the first one booked. The nurse did a great job finding Nugget – something others have had trouble with – and was able to get me situated comfortably. After 20 minutes, nurse practitioner Gina came to the NST room instead of taking me to an exam room to do the consult while I lounged.
They had me go ahead and sign the consent paperwork for my c-section on February 24th. I basically agreed that I was ok with a blood transfusion and that I was aware that c-sections were a surgical procedure that could result in different problems including disfiguring scars and death.
I was in and out of the office on Monday in an hour.
Today was the perinatologist’s office. There, I get vitals taken (blood pressure was 110/72 – yes, perfect. Weight is up 1 pound from my last visit but still down 9 pounds from my first visit in August). Then it’s back out into the waiting room to wait for a technician to come get me. After the ultrasound, it’s back out to the waiting room to wait for a consultation either with the perinatologist or one of his nurse practitioners.
Today, I went back for vitals and then straight into an ultrasound room – good timing I guess. This baby hasn’t been very photogenic. He has let us see everything we’ve needed to see when we needed to see it, but he likes to hide his face so we’ve only been able to get shots of his face in quadrants and only one good view of his profile early on. So I have no pictures for you unless you’d like to see his kidneys.
He’s head down and has his face towards my spine so we get marvelous views of his spine and of his vital organs. But again, it makes for crappy views of anything interesting.
Again, I am making a GINORMOUS baby. Nugget is measuring at 6 pounds. Phoebe AKA Spider Monkey was measuring at 7 pounds at 34 weeks as you will remember from THIS post. And again, part of the weight is because of his LONG legs. His legs are measuring at 37 weeks, 6 days – so again, like Phoebe, he’s LONG LONG LONG.
The tech said I was probably gonna deliver a 10 pound baby. I just smiled and nodded because they said the same thing about Spider Monkey and she was just 8 lb 15 oz. But then I again, I am reminded that I delivered her at 38 weeks, 2 days, so she might have made it to 10 pounds if she’d baked until 40 weeks.
Afterwards, I consulted with nurse Susan today. Despite my own efforts, my blood sugar sucks rocks and that was the bulk of our conversation. My fasting sugars just do not want to get into the range desired. They want me under 90 fasting and I’ve been averaging 110 over the last week.
Nothing I do seems to help – having a snack or not having a snack. Eating late or eating early. Doesn’t make any difference. My diet is quite good. I eat between 2000 and 2400 calories a day and it’s mostly low carb.
I am craving fajitas, sweet and sour chicken, meatballs and soft serve ice cream. So some of my cravings are even low carb. And I’ve only indulged in the sweet and sour chicken once this pregnancy and the ice cream 3 times. YES, IT IS TORTURE. I could literally wallow in a big tub of sweet and sour chicken while scantily clad cabana boys feed me soft serve ice cream. But I have been good and have abstained… Le sigh…
I take two shots a day – before breakfast and before dinner. And I take 2 different kinds of insulin – regular and a slower acting insulin called NPH. They keep cranking up my insulin and it IS helping but I’m still not within the range.
The internet has been most discouraging, telling me basically that it will get worse before I deliver. Nurse Susan basically agreed today and added a third type of insulin and a third shot daily. This one taken right before bed time. This insulin is even more slow acting than the NPH and costs a fortune even with the co-pay.
Do not get me started about insurance. I am incredibly thankful that I have insurance. I am incredibly happy that I have pharmacy coverage, but quite frankly the hoops you have to jump through are ridiculous.
A vial of NPH only lasts about 14 days and the regular lasts about 25 days. Because of this, I’ve needed refills pretty regularly and had 3 refills on each prescription. However, my insurance coverage states that if I need maintenance medication – meaning anything with more than 2 refills, then I must buy 3 MONTHS of meds at one time. My argument that I will not be pregnant for 3 more months is irrelevant.
This is NOT cheap. Not remotely. I am also aware that I will have a number of unused bottles of insulin that I will HOPEFULLY not need after delivery. I am hoping to find a charity that I can give unopened, sealed medications to when this is all over. This stuff is too expensive to throw away and some poor person who can’t afford their meds could sure use it.
Other than being peeved with this, I am quite well. I am tired. I am having leg cramps. I feel a little breathless because he’s right under my boobs. I feel heavy and slow and I waddle. He moves a LOT and usually when I’m trying to sleep like at 5AM or at 11:30 PM – especially when I need to get up at 6AM.
Moo puts his hand on my belly and feels Nugget’s movements. I don’t know what he expects – a flutter or a slight shift? Instead, he gets a roundhouse kick that shocks him and he mumbles something about not knowing how I can stand it. I think it freaks him out just a little.
Also, the constipation is back – I know: TMI. But you know you want to know this stuff. I mean, have you ever taken a dump so big you thought you should name it?
Pregnancy ain’t for wussies, y’all.