Even with the best laid plans...

a monkey wrench can still, and often, get tossed into the mix. (I've never gotten that figure of speech right--is it a monkey thrown in with a wrench??)

Anyway, last week's doctor appointment was the quintessential monkey wrench. I'd like to use another term, but try not to use that kind of "adult" language in my blog. The way I describe it to the Hubs (along with some inventive explicitives) is that I feel like I was dropped on my head. At 31 weeks, I figured I was reaching the end, which is unnerving in both a terrifying and exhilarating way. Things were in place. I've been rather zen, actually. Really. I have moments of "O.M.G. I haven't cleaned the windowsills and there is DUST" (AKA: nesting psychosis), but I've been calm for the most part. Then, last week's doctor appointment happened and after my doctor since before I got pregnant decides to give me the weight talk. I didn't get a chance (nor was I prepared) to point to my poor, unbelievably swollen Shrek feet and legs and claim some reprieve, which by the way, I've mentioned before and had brushed off as normal since my blood pressure is great and I don't have swelling anywhere else. I didn't have a chance because my doctor, who had mentioned nothing of weight concern at any prior appointment--in fact, the extent of my visits with her had been to listen to the heartbeat, ask if I have any questions, and pat me on my little head...hindsight=20/20--then tells me she's leaving at the end of February.

I'm due March 3rd.

She offered no assistance in transferring my care to one of the other doctors. Actually, she said if I wanted to stay there, I could. Her tone didn't exactly make her sound confident in the practice. (She's the second doctor to leave since I got pregnant.) She then told me there was a good chance I'd deliver before she leaves and she probably wouldn't let me get to my due date.

Umm, what? There has been absolutely no medical reasoning presented to me for delivering early. Should a medical reason present itself, then yes, I'll be agreeable to what is recommended at that point. My blood pressure has always been good, labs have been good, and Kaelyn's measured right on track. I kind of felt like I was being squeezed into her schedule before she left.

This did not sit well. Other things from my care that I had let go--you know, being "zen" and all--also started to not sit well with me. Here I am, pregnant and evidently hormonal (which explains the crying episodes that would stir up out of nowhere that day and the next), feeling like I've been dropped as a patient and having no guidance from the doctor I trusted to make me feel at ease.

First lesson: Take charge of your medical care.

Leaving it at: "Well, I should still see you at your next appointment at least" was not good enough. That's right, she didn't even reassure me that I was going to be taken care of. Here let me introduce you to the other doctors. Nope. It was a "yeah, I'm leaving. I can try to deliver you before I leave. Otherwise you're on your own." I couldn't even get an appointment with her in 2 weeks like I was supposed to. She had vacation time and afternoons off. I had gone ahead and set something up, but it was with the nurse practitioner (who I loved, by the way, but that's beside the point).

I decided to take control and find a new doctor in a practice I felt comfortable with. As soon as I got access to a computer, I pulled up our insurance to check the provider directory and research who the highly-recommended doctors were in our area who still delivered at the same hospital. I ended up with a list of 4 names. All with high-accolades and glowing reviews from patients. I finally figured out that they were all at the same facility. I debated about which one to request an appointment with and finally concluded that it really didn't matter. It would just be whoever was on call to deliver me, more than likely, and if they all are that wonderful, then I couldn't really go wrong. I called and spoke to a very understanding and sweet receptionist who got me in this afternoon to see the founding doctor of the practice. She actually offered me an appointment last Thursday, which I would have loved to have taken, but my good coworker had the day off and my other coworker is on "leave."

I had to practically battle the other office to get my records after being told it's a 14-day waiting period. Um, the doctor is leaving, I am almost 32 weeks pregnant, and I'm having to transfer care to another practice because she left very little confidence in me that I should stay with you and you're telling me you need 14 days to release my records? I didn't say that, but now that I think about it, I should have. One rush fee later and I have my records in time for the appointment.

I'm hoping this appointment gives me some reassurance and puts me at ease a bit. I'm definitely going to tell her about my experience at my other doctor's office. I definitely want to make sure there's no surprises that I can prevent and be sure we're on the same page. I'm not a total control freak patient, after all, with a 30 page birth plan detailing everything from being sure Yanni music is played at such a volume to having the room set at 71.2 degrees. (The Hubs would get that list of demands anyway. hehe I kid.)

My preferences are pretty simple. Unless there is a medical reason to deliver sooner than my due date, I want to go into labor naturally. I have heard horrible things about Pitocin and other induction meds and how they intensify contractions. I'd rather avoid that scenario. Also, because I don't want an extended recovery time, I don't want a c-section unless necessary. My maternity leave time is precious to me.

That's it. I'm going to see how it goes during labor otherwise. If I feel like I can go without an epidural, I will, but if I think it's in my best interest to get some rest and the epi is the only way to get that, I will ask for the anesthesiologist...and likely kiss his/her feet.

I want a healthy baby and I want to be a healthy momma at the end of the delivery. That's all.

I've been reminded that most of labor and delivery is the nurses. During our hospital tour, they reassured us that the doctors get updates constantly, but that it's the nurses who take care of you through it all. That makes me feel better because I've liked everyone we've met at the hospital. I feel comfortable there. In the end, I won't care what doctor walks in 30 seconds before I deliver.

Oh and some intense Shrek feet banishment procedures ("Be gone evil spirits!") have left me with semi-normal looking ankles and feet. Even my legs seem to have released a lot of fluid. My feet have a little water built up after a morning of my sedentary work lifestyle, but nothing like they were as recently as last week. This small victory involved: constant elevation of legs at work, downing a minimum of 120 oz of water a day, elevating feet at home for several hours each night, switching to non-binding socks (AKA: The Hubs's socks) as mine no longer fit, Epsom salt soaks for the legs and feet, cold compresses. I'm interested to see if this makes a difference on the scale today too. Even if it doesn't, I'm watching what I eat more (though the gyro was at the request of the 4 lb fetus...little girl needs her protein), cutting out a lot of sugar, basically all my bread-type carbs are whole wheat, etc. and really, I can't do anything about that number. If I'm hungry, I'll eat and there are definitely days when I'm not terribly hungry and days when nothing seems to make the hunger go away. It is what it is. Everyone's body responds differently to pregnancy, there's a lot of hormones at play (and apparently they do more than cause major chin acne), and I know some of my food choices could have been better, but I haven't eaten horribly. Kaelyn's healthy and that's all that matters. My issue with the number is more ego than anything and the fear of how Jillian Michaels will seriously kick my butt after delivery/recovery.

So I'm going to make up my list of questions to go over with the new doctor. I think I'll like her. Think good thoughts. In any case, I'll get home a little early (but have to make a stop for a couple essentials) so maybe I'll sneak in a nap. After last night and my inability to get comfortable and with my back feeling how it does, resting with the heating pad pressed against my lower spine sounds simply marvelous.

Stupid is as stupid does.

I tweeted awhile back about a coworker not realizing that I'm pregnant. I saw her a lot in the halls and was very clearly pregnant. The next time I saw her, she said "Oh yeah, you look pregnant now." That was like 2 days later.

That's enough to earn her an eyebrow raise.

Oh, but today...today, idiot coworker comes into the office to drop off a FedEx package. She peeks around the corner, doesn't say "hi" or any other common pleasantry. No, idiot coworker looks at me almost in disgust and says...

"You're BIG."
Me: ::thinking "ookay..."::
IC: "No, you're BIG. When are you due?"
Me: "March 3rd."
IC: "You have that far to go? Are you sure?"
Me: "Yeah. It's only about 2 months."
IC: "And you're this BIG already?"
Me: ::glare::
IC: "You're sure you're not having twins? You're really BIG."

She then proceeded to tell me how she knows someone whose wife thought she was only having 1 baby. She had 3.

I asked her when this was.

1980.

Thank you. Now go away. If I weren't propping up my poor Shrek feet under my desk, I'd give you a nice kick in the arse to help you out the door.

The 3-hour.

This morning I went in for my 3-hour glucose tolerance test with the mindset that I should just get it over with. I won't have the results until next week and if I wait until my next appointment, I won't have the results until the week after that because of the holidays. So I went.

I packed a bunch of things to work on, including grocery ads, my coupon accordian folder (it's small, don't worry), my laptop, 2 movies, headphones, not to mention my jump drive (AKA 1/2 of my brain). 7:45ish I mosey into the doctor's office, which was completely empty. They send me straight back to the lab, which is abandoned. A couple of minutes later, the friendly lab tech appeared and took me back. She felt bad I was having to do the test right before Christmas and when I told her my result last time, she too was surprised they were making me do the 3-hour. She drew my blood and then handed me my bottle of double concentrated glucola. It had double the sugar as the first one, was thicker, and was more difficult to get down. It wasn't horrible, but about halfway through, I could hardly take the sugar. I made a "bitter beer face" as I chugged, but finished it and off I went to the waiting room with the instructions to come back in an hour exactly. (My doctor's office evidently skips the 30 minute draw.)

The sugar hit pretty quickly like last time and I needed a distraction. Enter George Clooney, Matt Damon, and Brad Pitt, amongst others. I hadn't watched Ocean's Eleven in quite a while so it luckily kept my interest. I wrote out a quick grocery list, but I was finding myself feeling nauseous and looking at food in the grocery ads wasn't helping. I focused mainly on the movie with my feet up on one of the bench couches they have. (Thank goodness I went to that particular location because the other waiting room is teeny and the chairs very uncomfortable.) My stomach wasn't too happy with the sugar high and Kaelyn was bouncing all over the place, but I kept telling myself if I got sick, they'd make me come back another day to do it and that was enough to keep me determined to stick it out.

Blood draw. Cranky lab tech returned, but she seemed to be in a much better mood than last time. She's not as gentle with the needle as the friendly one.

I returned to the boys (and girl) of Ocean's Eleven. By that time, there were more people in the waiting room and I was getting some odd looks, sitting there with headphones and the laptop. I'm sure they were wondering if it were going to really be a long wait, seeing as I was so prepared...and had made myself at home. Feet up, all zipped up in my hoodie. I didn't care. The second hour can be described as my sugar crash. I hit a wall and felt exhausted, nodding off every so often. Brady called toward the end of my waiting period and I almost got to the end of the movie.

Blood draw. Cranky lab tech again. She had to go on the side of my arm because my veins weren't cooperating. Ow.

The tattooed (and I do mean tattooed) couple who had been waiting with a whole group of people to have their big ultrasound had returned (and sat at the end of my couch). I moved more in the corner of the couch and eavesdropped to hear they were having a girl. The mom-to-be feared the baby had her nose. I finished the movie. I wasn't feel as tired as during the second hour so I pulled out the good old jump drive and started working on my plans for freezer meals days, while listening to Taylor Swift. "The Best Day" makes me tear up so I listened to it about 4 times throughout the hour. Laptop battery died about 10 minutes before my last draw.

Blood draw. Cranky lab tech was in a much better mood. Friendly lab tech returned from Christmas shopping and looked surprised I was still there and started talking about bad drivers. She had to stick the side of my other arm this time. Again: Ow.

So basically my morning was as exciting as it sounds. The drink was definitely worse than the 1-hour and I wouldn't want to go through that first hour as my body tried to deal with the sugar rush again. Otherwise, the time went by pretty fast for me. I think having plenty to keep me occupied was the trick. I would have brought socks had I known how cold they would have the office this time. (Last time I was "sweating bullets," as my cousin Luke said all the time growing up.) I am crossing my fingers and crossing my toes that I passed. I think I did. My body seemed to be doing what it was supposed to be doing to process the glucola. I should know by my appt next Tuesday!

fail vs. FAIL

So I failed my 1-hour glucose tolerance test.

My initial reaction? I wanted to cry. Obsessive Googling ensued.

It dawned on me after I hung up with the nurse to ask for the number so I would have a better idea of if I'm just borderline or if I more than likely have GD. I called back not 2 minutes later. Closed for lunch.

::side eye:: Way to hit and run.

The hour and a half until their phones would even give me an option to talk to someone dragged.

I called back, but had to leave a message for Tara, my doctor's nurse. She called me back 45 minutes later, but Googling had told me that most women who fail the one-hour pass the three-hour so I was a little calmer. I also found out that there was nothing I could have done to cause or prevent gestational diabetes. It wouldn't have mattered if I had eaten ice cream all day every day.

As she checked the computer for my results, the range kept floating around in my mind. I knew it couldn't have been over 200 because typically they skip the 3-hour test and immediately get you going on diet modification if it is. The target is to get under 140.

My result?

Ready for this?

140.

Are you flippin' kidding me? Tara said she wasn't sure why the doctor was sending me, but she must just be doing it as a precaution. She said not to worry about it, she's sure I'm fine.

So I feel a little better. After all, I did the 1-hour at the end of the day, I probably had more sugar than usual around that time, blah blah blah.

So what fun awaits me at my 3-hour glucose test tomorrow morning?

• I get there at 7:30, have my blood drawn.
• I drink the glucola punch, which by the way, is twice as concentrated as my first test
• After 30 minutes, they draw my blood.
• I wait.
• At the hour mark, they draw my blood again.
• I wait.
• At the 2-hour mark, they draw my blood again.
• I wait.
• At the 3-hour mark, they draw my blood again.

Doesn't that sound like a barrel of monkeys. Now my mission is to come up with things I can do while sitting in the waiting room. I'm not sure if they have free wi-fi so I need backups. Time to peruse the to-do list...

The lowdown on the glucose tolerance test

This is a test that makes pregnant women cringe. It's to check for gestational diabetes, which affects about 8% of pregnant women. Complications of having GD include needing to modify diet, having high birth weight babies, and needing to deliver early. If blood sugar cannot be regulated, insulin injections are required, same as for regular diabetes. Nothing any pregnant woman wants to deal with when there are so many other things to get done and worry about during the last trimester.

I've been dreading this test, particularly since my last regular appointment when Dr. Doan handed me a bottle of the "fruit punch" variety. I had read up on the test and thought I'd have a choice at least, but it was this bright red concoction or nothing. I would have preferred nothing, but seeing as that was not an option, I've glared at the bottle on the top shelf of the fridge for weeks. Yesterday it accompanied me to work so I could drink it exactly an hour before having my appointment and getting my blood drawn.

Honestly, I expected a really nasty drink. I even stuck the bottle in the freezer to attempt to create a slushy variation, which somehow seemed more appealing. Yeah, didn't work. The mutant drink wouldn't freeze. It was however cold, so I poured it into my plastic cup and braced myself. They require you to drink it within 5 minutes.

First taste and I decided it wasn't so bad. It was very much like what I imagine Kool-Aid is like. (I'm not a big fruit punch fan.) I guzzled it down fairly quickly and got ready to head out. That's when the sugar rush hit (and not in a good way). My head felt fuzzy and started to hurt. My ears started to get warm, which oddly enough usually only happens when I drink alcohol. En route to the appointment, I was plotting a quick dash after my appointment to get a value menu burger to absorb some of the sugar and make me feel better. Fortunately, over the course of the required hour, the unpleasantness eased up. My head started to feel better by the time it was time for my blood draw.

I walked back to the lab, as instructed, exactly one hour after consuming the sugar-infused beverage. No one was there. I stood there a minute or two and was about to check back with the front desk to get a 20 on the techs when one came up the hallway, smiled and said she'd be right there. Perfect. I took a seat on the big lab throne and waited. Enter different tech. Non-smiling and rather cranky looking lab tech who seemed annoyed that I was there. She shoved the short form to complete for the glucose test toward me, almost slammed the vials she would need to fill on the counter, and had a personal vendetta against the rubber band she wrapped around my arm. The other tech popped back in to do my test and was her friendly self. I wanted to whimper for her to rescue me from cranky lab tech, but then I realized cranky lab tech was reaching for the needle and moving purposefully toward me so I quickly diverted my eyes to the wall of cute baby photos.

The blood draw wasn't that bad. It honestly never is. I just don't like seeing that needle go in. (Plus I had a really bad blood draw when I had a kidney infection at age 13--the tech used a needle the size of a tree trunk and upon realizing she used too big of a needle, she decided to draw again from my other arm. She ended up sticking me several times and my arms looked like I had a drug addiction in my 8th grade graduation photos.) Anyways, so she wrapped my arm with gauze, I rolled down my sleeve and headed back to the waiting room to wait for my visit with Dr. Doan. It was later when I got home and was going to remove the gauze that I realized she used the sticky gauze. The gauze that glues itself to arm hair. The gauze that is unpenetratable by your run of the mill household scissors. I admit it, I may have called her a name at that point, as I realized I would have to rip off the sticky gauze and then proceed to slide it off my arm, trying to avoid having it cling to any other hair.

I should hear back on the results by next week, which freely allows me to possibly indulge in Fuddruckers this weekend and definitely have some yummy appetizers at my brother and sister in law's holiday party on Saturday night. Hopefully I pass. I don't want to deal with the 3 hour test, which involves a change in diet for a few days before the test, then fasting, then the test. I could not imagine the headache if I had to drink that stuff on an empty stomach.

So that's it. Not horrible, but not pleasant either.

Exams, Edward Cullen, and Toothless Smiles. Oh my.

Something wacky is going on with my subconscious. Last night I had a dream that I was in school--college I believe. I had been skipping my chemistry or physics class for a couple of weeks. (I can't remember which it was. Some sort of science.) I'm not sure why I skipped it, but it occurred to me as I went to class that I had missed two exams. I was looking at the syllabus to make sure and sure enough, I had. It was the same date in my dream as in reality. I had no solution for my dilemma.

Random. A tad stressful, but mainly I remember waking up and thinking "What a boring dream."

The night before, I had a dream I was at the movies. It was mid-day. I was at concessions and Edward Cullen (AKA Robert Pattinson) appears beside me to refill his popcorn. Apparently we were there together. Now this scenario would make most Twilight fans' hearts go aflutter, but I wasn't paying much attention. I was too distracted by the fact that I was wearing my wedding ring. I was holding out my hand in front of me as I waited for my drink and popcorn, letting the light sparkle in the diamond thinking how pretty it was. Meaning, it actually fit.

Now that would be awesome.

The other night I also had a dream that Brady and I went to hug, but he accidentally bopped me in the mouth. Classic case of skull versus teeth. I lost 2 teeth, one on each side of my mouth. One was my canine tooth on the right side that I had to have 2 surgeries to pull down from the roof of my mouth in the midst of my 4 years of braces. I didn't realize that one was gone until we had rushed from one dentist to another and the receptionist pointed it out to me. I then had to have a procedure to try to reattach them.

That was it. Yes, I have a fear of losing my teeth. I also watch a lot of hockey and seeing the toothless smiles of Stastny and McLeod may have contributed. All in all though, kind of boring. I wasn't freaking out about my teeth as I have in previous dreams of that nature and in the first dream, I wasn't terribly upset either about missing the exams. Mainly, I was bored with my own subconscious.

I wouldn't say these dreams are honestly worth the loss of quality sleep. They're rather dull. So this got me thinking--Wouldn't it be wonderful to be able to control what you would dream about? At this point, I'd have myself swaying in a hammock on a beach somewhere sleeping. That should produce some quality Z's. Because I'm due to have a child in 99 days and I need to get some good sleep, people!

Oh yes, I also now snore. Loudly. Thank you, pregnancy hormones. (If you're wondering, here's the science of it: Increased blood flow causes blood vessels to expand, which leads to swollen nasal passages. Higher levels of estrogen also cause swelling of the mucous membrances.) I've given up on Breathe Rights. They are useless at this point.

Status update: Shrek and Donkey

For the record, I never thought I'd be blogging about my feet.

Anyways, we applied freezer bags of ice on the feet and ankles last night, then wrapped them in towels. Then we wrapped those with cling wrap and finished it all off with, what else, some duct tape. All of this was due to the fact that I shift from side to side throughout the night because it gets really uncomfortable if I stay on either side for too long. Also, at this point in pregnancy, laying on my back isn't recommended. 

The verdict? For the time being, Shrek and Donkey have shrunk down to an almost normal appearance. I shall be downing water from the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep today, along with keeping my feet, at minimum, straight out in front of me as much as possible. I will also be moving on to a different blog topic. I have a bunch of photos to post on the family blog so I'll be getting to that soon!

"I shall call him Squishy and he shall be mine. And he shall be my Squishy."

Actually, we've come up with two sets of names for my swollen feet. This comes after we discovered that we can make indents in the squishy tops like it's Play-Doh. Sexy, no?

#1: The left (the bigger of the two) is Shrek. The right, is Donkey.

The second set of nicknames requires some knowledge of Gabriel Iglesias. 

The right, as mentioned being the smaller of the two, is "Daaaamn."

The left foot is "Ah hell no." 

I've tried elevating them for long periods of time, which by the way, isn't as comfortable as it sounds. I downed tons of water at work yesterday. I've tried getting up and walking around (in hopes of promoting circulation). I've tried sleeping the entire night on my left side. I've tried using a body brush to again, promote circulation. Yeah, no luck. Update: I've been elevating for a couple hours now watching TV and the hockey game and Shrek is getting a bit smaller. Donkey continues to be a show off. 

So this week I ordered compression socks. I can hardly wait for them to get here. 

Those are two sentences I never thought I would say/type. Now, they aren't typical compression socks. While browsing the web for assistance on this strange fluid displacement and retention, I stumbled upon a product called MommySox. The price is a little steep for "socks" but considering how pricey compression hosiery can be...and the fact that I would have paid twice that amount to get my normal feet back, it's well worth it. In case you're needing some or know someone who might, the cheapest way is to buy direct through their website. The athletic style are $9.95, the knee-high variety are $12.95. I used coupon code VALENTINE to get 30% off. 

I got two pairs for now--a pair of black knee-high ones (I got black so I can wear them to work) and a pair of white tread socks that come to just above the ankles. They have good arch support too, which is apparently also an issue during pregnancy. All the reviews were very positive, being labeled a "lifesaver" so hopefully I have similar results!

I knew this day would come.

My wedding/engagement ring set no longer fits. Boo.

The thing is that my fingers don't look tremendously swollen, but when the top 2/3rds of my finger turned a deep reddish purple when I tried to take the ring set off and then put it back on later, I knew I probably shouldn't force it anymore. It's been getting more and more difficult to take them off in the morning and I've had to go without my right hand moonstone ring for a couple of weeks now so I knew this was coming, but still. It's a sad day.

I suppose the bright side of this is that I wasn't stubborn enough to keep wearing them because I guess some women have had to get theirs cut off. The ring, not their finger. I'm not certain our "friend in the diamond business" would cover us under warranty for such an operation.

So I'm looking for cheapies. Since Kaelyn's birthstone will be aquamarine, that is, if she stays on schedule for a March birthday, I thought it would be appropriate to have something with that. Plus I love that stone, even the man-made variety. If it indeed turns out to be little one's birthstone, I'd love to get a nice ring...you know, after my fingers go back to normal size. For now, I shall avoid the 50 ct simulated stone "cocktail" ring...yes, there is such a thing and you too can own your very own for the bargain price of $14.97. Okay, I made up the price, but I forget where I saw it.

We're going to probably take a look at a store or two tonight for some temporary replacements, but I couldn't help but check out some places online. Here are the current contestants:

As long as this one doesn't look like children's costume jewelry in person, I like the idea of it. The band kind of reminds me of my right hand ring with the antiquey looking sides, though the stone is a lot more prominent on this one.

Pretty basic. I'm wondering if cubic zirconia might be the way to go though for this style.

The last one has Swarovski crystals in it to provide a bling-bling effect, but I'm not sure about the "rolling ring" part and how comfortable that would be.

I definitely need to figure out what ring size I'm up to and then probably go up a size from there to allow for continued...expansion.

I have a funny.

It took me 3 hours of being at work to finally realize--

Not only were my pants on backwards...

they were also inside out.

Yeeeeah.

Oh and tonight, Brady and I are shopping for dog sweaters. It's an interesting day in the neighborhood people.