We were “not Not Trying” to get pregnant for a long time. So, not using birth control and leaving the outcome up to fate. And if we’re honest, after over a decade together, it wasn’t just in recent months that there was a “risk”…we had just finally agreed that of we were going to have kids it was time to start that process, and we’d deliberately left birth control out of the bedroom, instead of accidentally overlooking it in the heat of the moment. Really it was years if I think back, but only truly looking at my period and trying to figure out fertile days for about a year before I got pregnant the first time.
It was a surprise, actually. My husband is more go with the flow and didn’t feel any rush or pressure, but the part of me that wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a parent had convinced me it wasn’t happening for us and that that was okay. So of course, very shortly thereafter, there are two lines on the pregnancy test and my brain is taking back all those platitudes. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.
And then, just a few weeks later, before the OB even saw me for the first time, it was done. The male ER doctor and nurse were not the right ones to give this news. The nurse didn’t even pronounce “demise” properly as they got ready to discharge me with a diagnosis of “probable fetal demise”. “What the hell do they mean by ‘probable’?!” my husband asked me angrily, with a pinch of hope in his voice as we had a few minutes alone in the room. I told him it was their CYA and they wanted an OB to give the official statement. I’d already had to explain to him that the reason we’d been in the ER for 6 hours was that if my bleeding was nothing, then there was no rush to be seen, and if it was something, there wouldn’t be anything they could do about it, so I was triaged at the bottom of the list behind the actual injured and sick. That practicality that I put forward didn’t make it any less heartbreaking as the little seed of hope that was blossoming in my heart withered along with the embryo in my uterus.
No matter what you’re told about miscarriage being common and something that is no fault of your own, and likely some sort of defect that wouldn’t have led to a healthy baby, I know I’m not the only one with the blame voice in my head. You drank alcohol! You had a cold and took NyQuil! You did that volunteer work where you laid mulch and did other landscaping and it was a lot of hard work on your out of shape body! Part of you is relieved to not be taking on this responsibility! You weren’t taking prenatal vitamins until 6 weeks in! The blame voice still haunts me, even over a year later. I have to focus on more important things instead of those doubts running rampant in my brain.
Afterwards, the doctor said everything looked good on my end and that we could try again in a few months. I tried not to get my hopes up. I didn’t talk about it much to family or friends. But once the doctor’s time period was past, we stopped using birth control again. And I was logging my periods with Fitbit for more accurate fertility days and making sure to seduce my husband at the appropriate times. But I finished the Costco-sized bottle of prenatal vitamins that I had started before the miscarriage and restarted a few months later, and I got discouraged and listened again to that voice that convinced me that I really didn’t want a kid anyway. And again after another year of trying (well, not quite, but a year since the miscarriage), I had a test come back with two lines, and it was a shock. To be honest, when we talk about the date of my last period and when conception would have been, the husband and I can’t even remember when it would have happened, so we’ve been joking that it’s something of an immaculate conception 🤣.
So again there’s excitement and hope (and terror), and this time it is tempered with fear and comparisons to the “last time”. What if we tell someone and it happens again? We’d only told a few people the first time, but those follow up conversations were still tough. What if we start talking about the future again and it all goes sideways? But of course, you can’t live in the past or with all that anxiety on a daily basis without losing your mind. So we waited for the milestones… maybe different ones from other parents: the ultrasound with a heartbeat, as opposed to the first silent ER ultrasound; making it past the 9 week mark that we made it to the last time; actually getting the first prenatal visit with the OB! And we made all of those and more. So life moves on.
Of course, there have to be complications, because what is life without complications? Being “old” (over 35) already puts me in the “high risk” category. But after my initial blood work, the OB asked me to take a glucose tolerance test, which is several hours of waiting broken up by blood work as they see how well I tolerate/process the special sugar drink, that I scheduled for a Saturday morning. That Monday evening, as I entered week 10 of pregnancy, I was sent the results of “gestational diabetes”.
That Tuesday I picked up a blood sugar test kit, and Wednesday I met with an endocrinologist and later with a diabetic counselor. And nothing has quite been the same since then. Of course, it really hasn’t been the same since that positive pregnancy test!
I’m now in week 21 and wanted to start this blog to share thoughts, recipes, and coping mechanisms. And if I keep with it after baby arrives, hopefully somewhat witty insights on parenting. In 3 months of my diabetes diet (and let me tell you, pregnancy is the best diet motivation ever!), I’ve lost 10 pounds at a time I am supposed to be gaining weight, after being categorized as obese for most of my adult life and really never having lost weight while trying to before. And I’ve decided, I don’t want my pre-pegnancy body back after baby comes. I want to continue to get healthier and be better than I am today so I can have more quality time with my little one when she arrives. So I’m hoping that writing this all down will really be helpful & motivational for me, but am making it public in case it is helpful for you, too.
I can be a talker, but don’t expect every post to be this long. I do have several posts planned, including some recipes I’ve found, tweaked and enjoyed these last few months, but I don’t know how often I will post. I’ve never been good with diaries in the past, but I’m hoping the public facing part of making this a blog will motivate me to post regularly. At the very least, it gives me something to do during bouts of pregnancy insomnia.
Next up: “why did a diabetic name their blog ‘Better with Sugar,’ AKA, my love affair with dessert.”
Better with Sugar 