Monday, March 9, 2009

House Arrest in Full Effect

We went back to the doctor last Wednesday for my 32 week visit, which was also a follow up visit after my hospital vacation, and also the day for my glucose screening. When we got to the doctor's office, the lady at the front desk told us he wasn't there because he had to deliver a baby but he wanted me to have the glucose test anyway, especially since it was already a little late in the game for it. I was bummed because I was really looking forward to being taken off house arrest at this appointment.

So fine we go back for the test and it's no big deal really. I didn't mind the sugar drink at all. It was kind of like what orange jello would taste like if you drank it in liquid form, or like a super orangey version of the "orange drink" we used to get at camp. Since my one consistent craving this whole pregnancy has been oranges and orange flavored things, it was pretty good. We both brought books to kill the hour in between so we went back out to the waiting room and settled in to wait.

Did I mention that I had to go in for the test fasting? Apparently, some docs allow you to eat the day of the test but mine isn't one of them. About 15 minutes after the blood draw and the sugar drink the wildest sugar rush of my life set in. I actually felt a little drunk. All speedy and kinda woozy. And then very quickly crashing down tired and a little nauseated.

At some point around that time, the doctor appeared out of nowhere, beckoning to two other women from the waiting room. One had a duffel bag and her husband in tow, the other had a friend or family member of some kind. Both women were in the exam rooms for maybe 10 minutes and then they reappeared, one after the other. The doctor has this very convenient policy wherein if you want him to deliver your baby while he's on call at the hospital, you can schedule a day with him and he'll break your water and then you go across the street to the hospital and say "I think my water broke". This is what happened with both those women, I'm sure and I figured he wasn't going to talk to me at all.

On his way out of the office to head back to Labor and Delivery though, he did stop to talk to us. I asked him my burning question as to whether his orders for me were the same. He said to get up and move around a little more normally over the weekend and see what happens. Still no exercising and no lifting of anything remotely heavy. Frank asked, "She still can't go back to work, right?" and the doctor pretty much said I could go back to work until I landed myself back in the hospital with more bleeding but the best thing to do and his recommendation was to just stay home. The nurse called me back to take my blood again and that was that.

After the appointment we headed down to South Philly to get some cheesesteaks from Geno's. Generally, we don't get our cheesesteaks from Pat's or Geno's because they're not that good and those places are really for tourists who don't know any better and really, I eat a cheesesteak like once a year. On a more personal level, I stay away from Geno's in particular because the old man is a xenophobe who has been waging a nasty ( albeit unintentionally comical) campaign against immigrants and non-English speakers. His support for the Phila police is unparalleled though and on this particular day, Geno's was hosting a fund raiser for the family of the most recent Philadelphia police officer to be killed in the line of duty. 6 officers have been killed in the past 16 months in my fair city, 4 shot to death and 2 killed in car accidents by repeat criminals under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol. The most recent was a 25 year old newlywed whose wife is expecting their first child. The least we could do is buy a couple of cheesesteaks and a tshirt.

I was so wiped out from the stupid sugar drink and the blood draws and then in a food coma from eating a cheesesteak too fast, I passed out on the couch for about 3 hours when we finally got home. It was a really good nap.

The next day, the doctor's office called to tell me that I failed the glucose screening. Of course I immediately started googling "gestational diabetes" and "acceptable glucose level" so as to reassure myself. And by reassure myself, of course I mean freak myself the eff out. There's no real standard of what's a really high number, what's marginal, or what's normal. Some doctors cut off at 140, some higher, some lower. There was no comfort in the damn internet but I didn't come across any horror stories so at least there was that. So this Wednesday we're headed back to the doctor for the 3 hour test. I'm trying to remain calm and tell myself that it's normal and lots of people fail the first round and then turn out to be normal on the 3 hour. My own sister in law just went through it last month and she was declared fine after her 3 hour test. But really, at this point I'm not shrugging anything off or ruling anything out. Also nagging my thoughts is the fact that this boy is already measuring quite a bit bigger than average for this particular stage of development which is of course a side effect of gestational diabetes. Awesome. We shall see. At least they'll let me know the next day so that should keep the obsessing to a minimum.

We're pretty convinced that this boy is not going to wait 7 more weeks to make his grand entrance. I'm feeling fairly certain he's going to be an early bird. If that does turn out to be the case, he totally gets it from his dad.

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